


We Light the Fires but We Don't Put Them Out

by PastelMess



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drugs, Gen, Self Harm, Sexual Assault, Superpowers, Violence, backstories, there will probably be more later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelMess/pseuds/PastelMess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tyler

**Author's Note:**

> These are prequels for the characters in Light a Match and All I'll See is You, so go read that first! Or don't. I'm not your mother.
> 
> I'll just add chapters here every so often for a different character each time, so if you want to see someone in particular, let me know.

When Tyler was four years old, he accidentally hurt someone while playing in the park. They had taken his shovel, the green plastic one he was using to scoop dirt into little neat piles, and shoved him away. So Tyler shoved back.

“You gotta be careful baby,” Mommy told him. “We aren’t like them. They are a fragile species.”

“Species?” Tyler asked, shoving his thumb in his mouth. “Am I an al-wi-en?”

“No. We’re just different.”

***

When Tyler was six years old, his mother overheard him talking to a blonde little girl about her heartbeat.

“It’s really loud! Why are you so scared?” he kept trying to reach out and rest his hand on her chest, but the girl kept screaming and stepping away. Tyler was confused. Couldn’t she hear it pounding in her own ears? Couldn’t she hear Tyler’s? His wasn’t very loud.

“Tyler Robert!” Mom yanked on his arm harshly, causing Tyler to start crying. He didn’t understand why Mommy was hurting him. Her grip lessened when she noticed he was crying.

“Don’t cry baby,” she whispered, wiping away a tear that had slid down his cheek. Then she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Ty, do you remember what I always tell you? We’re different baby. You can hear what other people can’t. You’re going to scare people talking about stuff like that.”

Tyler sniffed, nodding his head. “I’m sorry mommy. I forgot.”

She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his head. “It’s okay. You just got to be careful. You have to remember, okay?”

“Okay.”

***

When Tyler was eight years old, he was riding his bike through the neighbourhood when a group of boys stopped him on the street. They were older, probably about thirteen or fourteen, and shoved him off his bike.

“You can have this back when you’re a big boy,” the one with a big nose said. The others all laughed, kicking Tyler a few times before disappearing off down the street.

That was the first time Tyler had an urge to kill somebody.

***

When Tyler was thirteen years old, his parents sat him and his siblings down at the kitchen table for a discussion.

“You all understand that we are different than humans, correct?” Dad said, his tone serious. Tyler was picking at the tablecloth, uninterested. Why were they having this conversation now? It was still daylight outside. He could be playing basketball.

“Yeah Dad,” Zack said. “We all know.”

“I need you all to take this seriously. Do you remember what Papa told you? About what happened when he turned eighteen?”

“He got superpowers!” Maddy said with a toothy grin. She was rolling one of Zack’s hot wheels on the table.

“He didn’t get superpowers baby, he got his special talent. Now look, not everyone gets a talent. None of Daddy or Mommy’s siblings did. But we think one of you might get it.”

“Or maybe not,” Mom continued. “We aren’t sure exactly. But the minute one of you feels weird, you have to tell us okay? Even if your tummy or head hurts.”

“It isn’t supposed to be weird. It’s a great thing. We want to help you guys, okay? You’ll become strong and get it under control. It’ll be cool.”

“Like how Papa can bring flowers back to life? He sticks them all around the house.” Maddy giggled, pulling the sleeves of her shirt over her hands as she raised them to her mouth. Jay swiped the car away from her and began playing with it himself.

Tyler still wasn’t paying any attention. This wasn’t important. He doubted it was ever going to happen to him. Zack maybe. He was strong enough. Everyone liked him.

No one really liked Tyler.

“Exactly.” Dad grinned. “We just wanted to let you know, okay? Just in case. Everyone understand what we told you?”

Everyone mumbled yes, all besides Tyler. His father cleared his throat.

“Tyler? Do you understand?”

He looked up with a wild expression. “Uh, yeah.”

Dad was still looking at him. Studying him.

“Okay,” he finally said. “You may all go play until it’s dark.”

Tyler slipped away from the table, shoving his hands in his pockets. That was dumb.

***

When Tyler was fourteen, he was called into the principal’s office for violence.

The principal told his mother that Tyler was found trying to quote, “punch a kid to death.” Tyler sat quietly on the bench outside the office, his hands entangled in his lap. He wasn’t even phased by it. The boy deserved to die, Tyler thought. He was calling Tyler names and making fun of him. Tyler simply only wanted to stop him from hurting anybody else.

His mother joined him on the bench a few minutes later with a sigh. She looked at Tyler’s hands, still slightly covered in dried blood. “Why would you do this?”

“He was hurting me.”

“So you tried to kill him?”

“He told me to.”

Mom stared at him in fear for a split second before pushing hair out of her face. “Who told you too?”

Tyler shrugged. “He did.”

“Honey? Who is he?”

“He doesn’t have a name. So I call him He. Are you mad at me? Because it was self defense.”

She sighed again, shaking her head. “He didn’t touch you Tyler. It wasn’t self defense. You can’t just hurt other people.”

“But if I hurt other people, they leave me alone. I’m stronger than them. I’m better than them. They’re just stupid humans.”

“Tyler! Don’t say that! What is wrong with you?”

Tyler didn’t answer.

“Is this the first time you’ve thought about killing someone?”

Tyler shook his head, eyes cast to the ground.

He got grounded for two weeks and suspension from school for a month, but that wasn’t important. Tyler was going to be homeschooled from now on.

That night, Tyler overheard his parents talking about him.

“I think he’s starting to develop you know what,” Mom whispered harshly. She sounded terrified.

“What happened at school?”

“He tried to kill someone Chris. He told me if he hurt someone, they would leave him alone. He told me this wasn’t the first time he’s had an urge to kill someone. Tyler told me someone named He told him to do it.”

“Hmm. Yeah. That’s not good.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We gotta keep being parents. We have to help him. We have to love him and treat him like everyone else.”

That was the night Tyler knew he was different.

***

They put him into therapy, and after six weeks Tyler was starting to behave like a normal kid. He was pretending, really.

But his parents didn’t need to know about that.

So Tyler did his schoolwork and walked the dog and played basketball and pretended everything was alright and that he didn’t have any urges to kill people that were mean to him.

When Tyler was fifteen years old, he found himself wanting to kill humans that hadn’t even harmed him. There was something in his chest, pushing. It felt like a thick, tar like substance covering his lungs and encasing his ribs. He could hear voices in his head, telling him to do this, telling him to do that. But he had to pretend he was okay, or Tyler’s parents would send him back to therapy and act like he was the child that needed all the help.

***

On Tyler’s sixteenth birthday, he stayed in bed all day with what seemed to be the flu. All his bones ached and he had thrown up several times already.

His parents didn’t think anything of it. His mother laid a cool cloth on his forehead, peppering him with kisses and making sure he was okay. On the outside, Tyler only had the flu.

But on the inside, Tyler wasn’t himself anymore. In fact, Tyler wasn’t alone. There was something inside of him, something evil. Something that kept telling Tyler to reach out and kill his own mother, to escape and murder his entire family. Something that told Tyler he was the only thing that cared about him.

***

The first time Tyler changed was two weeks after his birthday. He was home alone.

Tyler had been curious. _He_ kept telling Tyler that he could make things better. That He could show Tyler how to not be afraid, and Tyler believed him. This thing in his chest, it felt like it was constantly crushing him, and Tyler thought that maybe, just maybe, if He took control, Tyler would feel better.

Tyler looked at his own hands in a new light. He didn’t have control of his own body. He didn’t even have control over his thoughts or words or actions. This was wrong. This didn’t feel right.

_What are you doing?_

Tyler was terrified. This thing was controlling his body, walking around dragging his hands on the white walls with a creepy grin.

_We’re going to kill, Tyler. That’s what you want to do, right? Kill?_

He reached out to touch the bouquet of flowers on the table, and Tyler watched in horror as they all withered away in a crumbling dark mess. He laughed. No, that was wrong. That was wrong. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong.

_Please stop! How are you doing this? How-_

_Shut the fuck up._

Tyler didn’t say anything. He was too taken back by He’s words. He had never said anything mean to Tyler. He was supposed to be Tyler’s friend. Tyler’s advice giver. His family.

Bogie, the family dog, padded around the corner that moment. Tyler felt his heart skip a beat.

_No. Please. NO!_

But He wasn’t listening. Only grinning.

_I thought of a name for myself Tyler. Would you like to know?_

_Please don’t hurt him. I’m begging you. Please._

_Blurryface. I think it suits me. What do you think?_

He crouched down despite Tyler’s pleads, letting out a low whistle. Bogie padded over, panting as his tail wagged a mile a minute. Bogie trusted Tyler, and the real Tyler couldn’t do anything about it.

The minute Blurry’s hand came in contact with Bogie’s head, the dog was whimpering. And then he dropped dead.

Tyler was screaming loudly, wanting to do nothing but sob and sob. But he wasn’t in control of his own body. He couldn’t cry.

Blurryface was laughing hysterically like killing the dog had been the funniest thing in the world. He walked into a bathroom, grinning as he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Bright red eyes.

Tyler continued screaming.

***

It didn’t take long before Tyler was being locked away in his room.

His parents screamed at him for hours and hours. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” or “How could you do this?”

Tyler was terrified. He could feel Blurryface wriggling around inside of him, constantly whispering, constantly trying to take control. Tyler wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t. He had to be in control to protect his family.

They changed the lock so Tyler couldn’t escape. So Tyler couldn’t hurt anyone.

They barred his windows. The only contact he had with them was through a tiny slot in his door. They gave him food through that slot.

Tyler had a bathroom add on in his room; he spent a lot of time in the shower, trying to scrub the evil off of him. But he always felt dirty, even if he was scrubbing until his skin was red.

***

At seventeen, Tyler had given up all hope.

His family never talked to him anymore. His siblings would run away if he spoke to them. His parents tried to make their conversations with him short.

Tyler didn’t really try to fight Blurryface anymore. He was too weak. That’s what he was told, anyway. So he spent his days laying on his bed, writing and writing and writing. He would fill up one notebook after another, whether he was himself or not.

His writing differed from Blurry’s, but Tyler liked his a lot more than his own.

He just wished things were under different circumstances.

***

When Tyler was eighteen years old, he was given a chance at escape.

He knew he was dangerous. He knew it was a terrible idea. But Tyler had to get away from his family. He had to get out of this prison cell he had been stuck in for almost three years.

So Tyler packed a backpack full of clothes and toiletries. He pulled out the money from his savings jar (It was only a hundred bucks, but that could put him on a bus to a different city) and carefully pulled at the bars on the windows he had been chipping away at every day for two years.

Tyler slipped out the window and down the street as quiet as he could be, ignoring all the pushes within him. He has to stay calm. He has to stay in control. He can’t give into temptation.

But he did.

Because Tyler found himself in an alleyway, and someone was touching him in places Tyler didn’t want to be touched.

He shoved him away, trying to get his footing so he could flee. But his attacker had other ideas.

He pulled Tyler close to him, yanking on his arm in a way that causes Tyler to yell out. The man shoved a grubby hand over Tyler’s mouth to muffle his screams. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?”

Tyler’s eyes widened in terror, but he couldn’t get away, no matter how much he struggled. He was going to die here.

The man shoved a hand down Tyler’s pants, pushing his body closer to Tyler’s back. Tyler was starting to cry.

“Gonna fuck you hard, pretty boy. You ever had some good sex? I bet not. You look clean. It’s going to be so nice taking your virginity.”

Tyler attempted to scream again once the man’s hand pushed under his boxers. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

And apparently, neither did Blurry.

He was hurting Tyler even worse than the man, and Tyler couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The man was dead five seconds later, leaving Blurry to pull the man’s hand out of his pants and drop him to the muddied cement below.

And then, he let Tyler take control.

“Oh my God,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees. He just killed someone. He killed a real life living person.

Murder.

He was going to go to prison. He was going to rot in another jail cell for eternity. What if he killed people there? Would they put him in a psych ward? Would he have to wear a straight jacket and have tests taken?

Would he be experimented on?

“Hey kid!” Tyler looked up with a shaky gasp to see a short, dark haired man standing at the edge of the alleyway. There were police sirens wailing in the background.

Did he call 911? What was he going to do?

Blurryface was leaving him alone for now, but Tyler knew that wasn’t going to last long.

Tyler started to back up, not caring his jeans were getting soaked in mud. He just needed to get away.

“Don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you! Look dude, I know you aren’t human. I’m like you.” the man held his hands out in front of him, a look of worry on his face. “My name is Pete. I’m from Chicago. I want to help you.”

Tyler was hyperventilating, his eyes flickering all around the dark alleyway. If this guy, Pete, wasn’t human, then what was he planning on doing?

“It was an accident,” Tyler blurted out in hysteria. “He was grabbing at me, and Blurry took control and I didn’t _mean_ to, I promise, but now he’s dead and I’m going to jail and I’m so so sorry!”

“It’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here and go back to my place, okay? I have a friend named Patrick there. He’s like us. We aren’t going to hurt you okay? We know what it’s like to deal with this kind of shit.” Pete paused, eyes narrowing. “How old are you?”

“18,” Tyler managed to spit out with a shaky breath of air. He wiped away tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I ran away.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tyler.”

“Tyler, do you have people looking for you?”

Tyler shook his head. “No. No one is looking for me.”

Pete sighed with relief. “Okay, then you can come back with me. We’ll take care of you, okay? You’re safe now.” Pete offered Tyler a hand, and the minute Tyler was back on his feet he was wrapping his arms around the shorter man and sobbing into his shoulder.

“You’re safe now.”

 

 


	2. Brendon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals a lot with religion and stuff, so if you don't like that then don't read, I guess. There's also drug use, and a scene involving an attempted rape as well as some other bad stuff, so please be careful. It's sad. 
> 
> Whoops.

Brendon Urie was an oddball.

The youngest of five children, he never really owned anything new. It was a constant life of hand-me-downs and old school supplies and slim pickings.

Because of this, Brendon felt a lack of attention from his parents. From the start, Brendon had craved attention. He needed it like his body needed oxygen. People needed to pay attention to him, needed to talk to him, needed to _feel_ for him or else Brendon felt defeated. When he was little, it was simple things like knocking a glass off the table or drawing on the wall. He’d get scolded and move on.

But as he got older, Brendon turned to other things.

There were things he was supposed to do, he knew that. Growing up in a religious family, Brendon knew what he could and could not do. But if he did the things he was supposed to do, like read his scriptures and pray to this so called “God,” his parents only nodded their heads and moved on their way.

“Good job Brendon,” his mother would say, and then she would pat him on the back and get distracted doing something else. Brendon would get two seconds tops before she was moving on to his other siblings.

But if Brendon didn’t do what he was supposed to do, his parents yelled at him. They talked about him with other people. They _paid attention_ to him, him and nobody else. And Brendon liked that.

So when his family went to church and he was supposed to go to class, Brendon would leave. Being in the middle of Vegas, it wasn’t hard to find a gas station or business nearby. And for a thirteen year old, he looked older than he actually was.

It started with him talking to strangers going into the store.

“I don’t have any parents,” he said to one woman. She gave him a strange look and walked away.

“My brother beats me up,” Brendon said to another guy. He ignored him completely. So lying wasn’t working.

Then a tall, buff man with a beard came out of the store and lit a cigarette. He had a lot of dirt under his fingernails, Brendon noted. And he didn’t smell pleasant.

The man noticed Brendon staring at him. He gestured to Brendon, using his cigarette to point. “What you looking at kid?”

“You’re smoking.”

He snorted. “Glad your eyes work.”

Brendon pushed himself up from the wall he was sitting against and approached the man. “Would you let me try?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” Brendon lied. “I don’t got no parents or anything, just wandered away.”

“Well, I’m sure once won’t hurt yah. Teenagers gotta try things out, that’s what my dad always told me.” So he handed Brendon the cigarette and told him what to do.

The minute the nicotine entered his lungs, Brendon knew he would be back.

***

His parents were furious once they found out what Brendon was doing every Sunday.

“Why?” his mother started out with her voice at an inside tone, but Brendon knew it wasn’t going to last long. He could see two of his brothers listening out in the hall from his cracked bedroom door. “Why would you ever think about doing this?”

“Why not?” Brendon responded, crossing his arms across his chest. “Teenager’s gotta try some stuff out.”

“Brendon Boyd Urie, you are thirteen years old! You have been taught that alcohol and drugs are forbidden! You know what this stuff does to you! You know...” she trailed off, raising a hand to her head with a sigh. Brendon didn’t move.

“Never did I think I’d have to deal with this. Never! Your siblings don’t do this! They follow directions! What makes you any different? Do you think God would want you to be doing this?”

Brendon scoffed. “God isn’t real.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Please baby, you gotta stop with this. There are better ways to get attention. You can try other new things. Just repent and-”

“Ain’t got nobody to repent to.”

His mother didn’t respond. She only stood and walked out. Probably to go get his father, if Brendon had to guess. Secretly, he was excited. When his dad got mad, he got mad. That meant all the attention would be on him.

And boy, did his father scream. Brendon got grounded and almost every privilege taken away from him, but that was okay.

***

Over the years, he started ditching school.

Brendon would start fights. He’d go to parties and end up in jail. He’d steal money and things from stores. He started sleeping around with anyone that even showed interest in him, which was a lot because Brendon Urie was considered hot stuff at his school.

His parents got angrier, which was exactly what Brendon wanted.

However, he never expected them to kick him out.

The last straw came when he told them he was dropping out of high school. His grades had never been good as it was; he was failing practically every class besides band (Contrary to popular belief, Brendon actually very much enjoyed that class.)

They sat him down at the kitchen table, home alone besides the three of them. His father cleared his throat.

“Brendon, you can’t stay here.”

Those five words hit Brendon like a stack of bricks to the face. His parents had turned towards religion to try and fit in with the humans, to pretend that their family was normal like everyone else. They went to firesides and chili cookoffs and were kind to everyone around them, whether they were human or not. He never thought they’d do this, of all things. Brendon had nowhere else to go. He didn’t have a job, didn’t have a car, didn’t have any reliable friends - where on earth did they expect him to stay?

“What?” he replied, voice coming out squeaky. His mother looked ready to cry.

“We have given you plenty of chances. But you obviously can’t respect our rules, so you can’t live under our roof. You’re bringing the adversary into our household Brendon. Sex, drugs, alcohol, cheating, ditching, lying, stealing...it’s all too much.”

“We can’t even trust a single word that comes out of your mouth.” his father began chipping away at the wood flaking off the table in tiny strips.

“But...” Brendon fumbled to grasp some sort of coherent sentence, but he didn’t even know where to start.

“We’re going to always love you bear, please remember that. But you have made too many poor decisions in your lifetime that reflect badly on our family name and the way we live our life as a whole. You-”

“You know what?” Brendon pushed out of his chair too quickly, letting it clatter to the floor behind him. HIs hands slammed down loudly on the table. “I don’t care about your fucking religion. It’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit. There isn’t a God, and if I’m going to hell, which I know you’re pointing at, then I am completely okay with that. You don’t want me to ruin your name? Fine. I’ll leave. But I’ll let you know that you aren’t the best people in the world either.” Before his parents could even open their mouths to speak Brendon was taking off upstairs to pack his bags. It didn’t matter where he went. He could find someplace to go. He had money. Give or take, it wasn’t his money, but money was money. He could probably steal a car. Brendon had seen enough movies to know how to do that.

“You don’t have to leave tonight,” Brendon heard his father shout from the bottom of the stairs. Brendon replied with a loud “fuck you!” because continuing to shove clothes into his backpack. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need their attention. He would go find people that appreciated and loved him for him.

When he came downstairs to leave, his mother grabbed him by the wrist. She was crying.

“Please don’t go yet,” she whispered through a sob. Brendon yanked his arm away.

“You just told me to. Because it’s probably what God told you to do, huh? You prayed and your fucking answer was to remove your horrible son from the household?”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way young man,” his father growled, stepping forward to shove his wife behind him. Brendon matched his stance.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t your perfect little son, okay? I’m sorry I’m not gonna go on a mission and pray to God and go to some high tech university. It’s all bullshit to me. So I’m gonna go, just like you said, and we will live our separate lives.”

“Please remember what you are baby,” his mom reached out to touch her son again, but Brendon stepped back. His hand was tight against the doorknob. “Please remember who you are.”

“It doesn’t matter who or what I am. I’m already a dead man walking.”

Then he left, slamming the door shut behind him as he tried to remove his mother’s grieving expression from his face.

***

Brendon shuffled down the streets of Vegas with his hands in his pockets and his head down low. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure where he wanted to go, but he knew he needed to go somewhere. Maybe he’d take a bus. At least he’d have a place to sleep for the night if he rode far enough. California maybe.

He stopped walking, pausing to lean against the wall of a building. It was already dark and only going to get darker. Usually, that wouldn’t bother Brendon, but tonight he had no where to go back to.

“Of course I had to leave at night,” he muttered into his hands. He was a mess, he knew it. Only it wasn’t until now that Brendon was finally admitting it.

“Hey!” Brendon looked between his fingers, seeing nothing out of the ordinary besides the Vegas lights and tourists. He spun around, looking for the source of the voice. “Hey you!”

Brendon felt someone grab his shoulder, and he turned around to see a suited man probably in his mid forties smiling widely. He slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out a wad of cash.

“Never seen you before. They must be switching things up. Doesn’t matter either way, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Let’s go.”

“What?” Brendon replied, but he was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

The man tugged on Brendon’s arm, pulling him down the sidewalk. Brendon didn’t bother to pull away. He was still confused and a little exasperated, if he was being honest.

“I’m sorry I’m late, work was hell today. But I told my wife I was gonna be later than I actually was, so we have a little time, but we still gotta work fast.”

Brendon finally pulled away, causing the man to whip back around. He tilted his head in confusion. “You’re the slut, right?”

He definitely knew what was going on now. And now, Brendon had a choice. Because he could always say no and flee, but that was a lot of cash the man was offering. And Brendon had to get money if he wanted to live. It was easy money.

Brendon nodded. “Yeah. I’m the slut.”

***

4 months, 124 days, 2,976 hours.

Thats how long Brendon had been sleeping for money. He had learned every nook and cranny of Vegas - and he couldn’t handle it any longer. It was time to leave.

So Brendon was waiting for a bus to California, where he planned to rent a shitty motel room somewhere until he could figure out what to do next. He had earned a substantial amount of cash doing what he did, but he knew his parents would be severely disappointed in him. He wondered if they were worried about him. Brendon did know their phone number; maybe he’d find a payphone and call or something, just to see.

He let out a low snort. “Yah right.” He wasn’t going to be the one to go crawling back to them. He was fine. Completely fine.

The bus didn’t come for three more hours, so Brendon was left to sit on the hard, uncomfortable wooden bench at the station. It was three am and risky to be outside at this time of night, but there wasn’t much anybody could take or do to Brendon that hadn’t be taken or done already. He rubbed at his face, trying to inch away the roaring headache he currently had. Weird things had happened over the past couple of months. There was always this ringing noise that followed him around, like a fly buzzing around his ear or something. Sometimes it was extremely loud, and other times it was barely there. His head hurt all the time, and the closer Brendon got to some things, the louder noises were. He didn’t understand anything that was going on.

“Hey kid.”

Brendon snapped out of his thoughts, eyes squinting in the dark to try and make out the figure. It was too dark to make out a face.

“Hey,” he responded, not sure of what else to say. They moved closer, and Brendon could finally make out some features of a grimey old man. His coat was ripped and covered in blood, dirt, and probably other human bodily fluids, while he remained unshaven and probably hadn’t shaved in months. He was homeless, if Brendon had to guess.

Not good.

“What’s a pretty boy like yourself doing at a place like this? It’s late, you might get hurt.”

“Oh, uh...” Brendon chuckled awkwardly, trying to unnoticably distance himself from the homeless dude. “I’m just waiting for the bus. Nothing big.”

“You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah. I guess I have.” Brendon looked at his hands and began picking at a scab. Suddenly, the man reached out and grabbed his thigh. Brendon flinched, his hands flying to pull away.

But this dirty old man was strong, and obviously had a goal.

His other hand went over Brendon’s mouth, causing Brendon’s eyes to widen in fear.

“Now pretty boy, I know you’re nothing but a dirty whore. But that’s okay, we can ignore that for now. I haven’t seen someone as pretty as you in Vegas in a while. I don’t think you really want to leave, do you?” When Brendon didn’t answer, he slid his hand further inwards farther down his inside thigh. Brendon shifted uncomfortably. “Of course you don’t. You want attention. You want money. You’re a slut.” his hand slid under the waistband of Brendon’s boxers, and he began spazzing under his touch, trying his hardest to get away before he got raped. Brendon was supposed to be stronger than humans, so why was it so hard to get away?

The lightbulb in the streetlight down the street exploded. Brendon’s brain pounded in his skull.

“You like this, I know you do. You probably want me to take off my clothes so you can suck my dick, don’t you? Nothing but a little cock slut, that’s what you are. Pathetic and worthless. If you died, nobody would be able to identify your body.” Brendon finally managed to get the old man’s hand off his mouth.

“Get the fuck off of me!” he yelled loudly, trying to alert anyone around them. But the bus stop was deserted. The man laughed.

“Don’t lie to yourself kid. You know what happens.” The hand in Brendon’s pants slid lower until he could feel it brushing his dick, and Brendon lost it. He started screaming.

Out of surprise, the man pulled away and tumbled off the bench, his hands going to his head in a grimace of pain. Brendon’s own head hurt just as bad, but he had to act intimidating.

“You don’t get to fucking touch me,” Brendon growled, “and pretend I’m some play toy of yours. You don’t even know me, so STOP TOUCHING ME!”

The old man was letting out whimpers of pain which turned into his own screaming. Brendon expected at least someone to come over, but yet nobody was here. He hoped that maybe the cops might come soon and take this piece of shit to jail.

And then there was a horrifying pop noise, and Brendon was covered head to toe in blood. Human blood.

The homeless man lay dead on the sidewalk, his brains covering the sidewalk. Brendon puked.

He never had seen this much blood before in his life. He didn’t know what was going on.

Another lightbulb exploded as he began hyperventilating. This wasn’t right. He just blew someone’s head up. How did he do that?

“No,” Brendon whispered as he was leaning over to catch his breath. He puked again. It wasn’t much besides stomach acid and water, but it burned like a bitch. Brendon knew. Talent. He had been avoiding it, his whole family had been avoiding it, because nobody had gotten a talent since his great grandma. This wasn’t right. Brendon didn’t want this. He just killed someone. Oh God, he just killed someone!

He had to get out. He had to go find another bus stop, and had change and discard his clothes, had to get the hell out of dodge. They would find him probably. He would have to change his entire identity.

“Oh God.” Brendon was crying now as he left the bus stop. He tried to stay in the shadows and away from the streets, but he couldn’t stop crying. He just killed someone! He didn’t know, he couldn’t control, he didn’t understand... Why hadn’t his parents discussed this with their children? They should have known, Brendon could have been prepared, but now, now, he was on the run because of a damn accident. It was self-defense, the man was going to rape him, and Brendon had to do something.

That’s what he told himself as he traveled in the early hours of the morning.

***

Brendon hid for three years.

He lived on stolen money and credit cards, camping out in backyards and woods as much as he could. He had made it to California, so it wasn’t hard to find the stuff he needed, but it was gross. And he hated himself.

Brendon could honestly say he wanted to kill himself.

It was an October morning and Brendon was sitting with his back against a tree, eyes shut and face tilted up towards the sky. He sighed loudly.

“I fucked up,” he muttered. His whole life was one big failure. Maybe he really was worthless.

“A lot of us do that.”

Brendon’s eyes shot open as he scrambled to find purchase in the dirt around the tree. His foot caught the edge of his backpack, sending him tumbling to the grass. A figure towered over him, and with a gulp he looked up.

It was a guy around the same height as him, with thick dark hair and tanned skin. He was wearing all black and floral vans. Not very intimidating.

“Who are you?” Brendon asked, his voice cracking. He cursed under his breath. Brendon could tell the guy wasn’t human, which was different. He hadn’t seen another talent in years.

The guy pointed to the piano tattoo on Brendon’s arm. “I like your tattoo. I’m not sure if I’d ever get one.” he paused, raising a finger to his lips. “My name is Tyler by the way.”

“Brendon.” he looked at Tyler again, eyes trying to get a read on his emotions. “Thanks.” Brendon thought Tyler would probably look good with tattoos. He was cute, in a weird way.

“So Brendon, what brings you to northern California?” Tyler flashed a sympathetic smile, like he knew whatever Brendon said next was going to be depressing. Brendon only shrugged.

“Traveling.”

With a sigh, Tyler dropped down next to him. He crossed his legs. “Look man, I’m gonna be frank with you. I know things suck. And I know a person who’s having suicidal thoughts when I meet one. I’ve been there. My power? I’ve got an evil side that always wants to kill. And he’s killed. And it is tough. But I’ve got a place back, a little sanctuary I like to call it. There’s people there you can talk to and stuff. It’s safe.”

“What do you know?” Brendon argued, his tone harsh. “You just met me.”

“I know. And all I want to do is help.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

“Because everyone needs help once in awhile.”

Brendon was quiet. He needed to think. It was true. He could use a little bit of help. And a place to live would be great. He wouldn’t have to run anymore.

“You have a place?” Brendon finally said after five minutes of debating. Tyler nodded.

“Yes. We have other people there. I look for people like us, people that need a place to live or stay for a while. There’s food and beds and stuff. I promise. It’s safe there. No more running, no more hiding. It’s all good.”

“You’re being completely honest?” he was still skeptical. This Tyler, he looked younger than Brendon. He had to make sure it wasn’t a cruel joke.

“You won’t know until you try.” Tyler stood up with a grunt and dusted off the grass before offering a hand to Brendon. He stared at it briefly before sighing and letting Tyler pull him up. Might as well try. If all else failed, he would go back to hiding.

Brendon followed Tyler through the woods. They moved in silence, and Brendon was thankful for that. He was focusing on staying calm so nothing randomly exploded.

When the two came to the building, Brendon swallowed loudly. Tyler patted him on the back.

“Told you I was being honest.”

***

“This is Spencer,” Tyler introduced Brendon to a taller man with a little bit of a beard. Brendon liked the way Spencer’s room felt. It was calm and tranquil and everything Brendon was not.

“Hi,” Brendon waved, his voice small. He really needed a shower.

“Spencer, this is Brendon. Until we get him a room, do you mind if he stays here?”

“Not at all.” Spencer shook Brendon’s hand. Brendon noticed his hands were warm. After so many cold hearted people, it was nice to find someone so warm. “It’s nice to meet you Brendon. What can you do?”

“I’m not sure,” whispered Brendon. He looked down at his scuffed converse. “I’m uh, kinda new to all of this.”

“Will you take care of him for me?” Tyler asked politely, his face masked with worry. Spencer nodded his head.

“Of course I will.” He led Brendon to the couch as Tyler disappeared out the door with a small smile. Brendon was on the brink of tears and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“I know what it’s like being new to all of this,” Spencer said quietly. He draped his arm across the back of the couch. “It’s hard, I know. But that’s why we have this place. To get better. And now that you’ve got me as your super cool friend, I’ll help you out. I can control emotions and stuff. Is it okay if I make you calm?”

Brendon stared at Spencer for point two seconds before his tears spilled over his eyelids and he was burying his face in Spencer’s chest. Spencer’s arms wrapped around his head with a soothing shush.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. Nobody is gonna hurt you anymore, okay? You’ll be okay.”

And Brendon believed him. 


	3. Pete & Patrick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no way I could do these two separately.
> 
> Mentions of depression, but I think that's about it!

Pete’s earliest memory was one of him and his father. It wasn’t much besides the two of them kicking around a soccer ball, but Pete considered it to be one of his fondest memories. He always had a strong bond with his Dad, ever since the beginning.

There was another memory of his family gathered around the dinner table. Pete was eight years old at the time, and they were discussing the rumours of a divorce. He had noticed Mom and Dad were fighting a lot, but didn’t think twice about it. He fought with his siblings all the time. It was normal.

Pete noticed his father was sitting at the opposite end of the table than his mother. They usually sat right next to one another, with Pete sitting closely to Dad.

His dad took a deep breath. “Kids, I know this is going to be hard to understand. You’re all young, and Mom and I hate to do this to you. But we have to separate. Mommy and Daddy will be living in different houses.”

Pete took his thumb out of his mouth as his eyebrows shifted in confusion. “I thought you loved each other. That’s what you always told us.”

His mother choked, and Pete noticed she had started crying. His brother and sister watched her curiously. “We do love each other baby, we do. We just need to take a break for a while.”

“You love soccer, right Pete? But you gotta take breaks sometimes to do other stuff.” His dad reached under the table to take Pete’s hand and squeeze it. Pete was still confused.

“But if you live in different houses, I won’t be able to see the both of you.”

“Well baby, that’s something we are going to have to figure out. Daddy wants to move far away. I’m going to stay here.”

Pete whipped around to meet his father’s sad expression. “Far away? You can’t move far away! We won’t be able to play anymore!”

He sighed. “Things are difficult Pete. Things are gonna be difficult for a little bit, but you’re strong. I know you can get through it.”

Pete began to cry. He didn’t want his daddy to leave. His brother and sister, they didn’t understand. They thought everything was fine. They were too young to understand. But Pete was a big kid, and he knew exactly what was going on.

***

Pete watched his dad drive away exactly one month later.

His dad had knelt down on one knee and wrapped his arms around his son. Pete buried his head into Daddy’s shoulder, tears streaming down his face. Washington was far, far away from Illinois. He didn’t know if he was ever going to see him again.

Pete hated his mother. He hated her because she was sending his favourite person in the whole wide world away and Pete couldn’t do anything about it.

“Shh Pete, it’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t want you to leave Daddy. I love you.” He sighed, entangling his hands into his son’s hair.

“I know. But you are amazing Pete, and you are going to go so very far in this world. You are kind, and strong, and incredibly talented. And one day, something awesome is going to happen, and you are going to be the coolest kid in school. You can do anything you set your mind too. And I’m always just a phone call away, okay?”

Pete nodded his head with a sniff, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand after Dad had let go. He kissed Pete on the forehead one last time before giving him a sad smile.

“I love you Pete. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I love you too Daddy.”

He ruffled Pete’s hair and waved before Pete watched him climb into his car and drive down the street. Almost immediately after, Mommy reached for his hand so she could take everyone inside. Pete ripped his hand out of her grasp.

“No!” he screamed at her, tears still streaming down his face. “I HATE you! You ruined everything!” he then darted into the house and down the hall to his room where he dove headfirst into his bed.

Pete cried the rest of the night.

***

Pete’s relationship with his mother went downhill after that.

She never let him talk to his father. She hardly ever let him go out. All it seemed she ever did was yell at him.

His mother remarried two years later to a guy named John. Pete hated John. He hated John because John acted like he was Pete’s father and John was _not_ Pete’s father. Pete didn’t have to do anything he said.

Pete was fifteen when his mother knocked on his bedroom door. Pete could tell she had been crying.

“What’s up?” he asked, no emotion in his tone. That tended to be how it worked when he spoke with her.

“It’s about your father. He-” she choked again, and Pete jumped up from his bed to comfort her.

“Mom? What happened?”

“I’m sorry Peter, I’m so sorry. I was terrible, I shouldn’t have did what I did, and I did and I can’t go back and I’m so sorry.”

“Mom! What happened?”

“He got in a car accident. A bad one. He didn’t make it.” Another round of sobbing ripped through her throat, and Pete found himself in a state of shock.

His father was dead.

His father, who he hadn’t seen in seven years.

His father, who had been his favourite person in the entire world.

Dead.

“I’m sorry Peter, I’m so so sorry. I know you loved him, I know you did but-”

Pete shoved his mother off of him. It was her fault his dad had left. It was her fault his dad was dead.

“I HATE YOU!” he screamed at her, hands balled into fists. He throat was burning, and Pete _knew_ he was gonna start crying soon. “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!”

“Pete, please don’t do this.”

But he wasn’t listening. Pete was already storming down the hallway and out the front door.

***

“Do you actually wanna talk today?”

Pete glared at Dr. Henry with just as much resentment as he usually did. His mother had put him in therapy after the news spread of Pete’s father’s death. She thought it would be better for him.

Dr. Henry wasn’t your average psychologist. One, he wasn’t human, which meant Pete could discuss things with him he otherwise wouldn’t be able to (not that he usually even said anything at all.) Two, he was a friend of Pete’s mother, which meant talking about how he really felt about his mom was off the table. Pete thought therapy was dumb. He didn’t need this.

Dr. Henry sighed at Pete’s silence, dropping his pen down onto his notebook below. “Look Pete, I know you don’t like this. But it’s been two weeks. There isn’t anything you want to talk about? Your father passed away. You must be feeling something.”

“I don’t got anything to say.” he pushed back into his chair.

“Your mother says you never leave your room anymore. What do your friends think about that? What about soccer?”

Pete shrugged.

“Please Pete, I’m begging you. All I want to do is help. Sitting in silence and lying to your mother is not helping.”

“What do you want me to say? My dad died. I haven’t seen him in seven years. End of discussion.”

“Not end of discussion. You blame your mom for his passing. It’s because they divorced, correct?”

Pete didn’t look up, but he moved his shoulders in a way that showed he was participating. Dr. Henry seemed to light up.

“Your relationship with your mother isn’t good.”

“No.”

“I see.” he scribbled something down in the notebook. “School isn’t going well either is it?”

“No.”

“Have your friends said anything?”

“My friends don’t talk to me anymore. I’m not on the soccer team anymore. My grades are terrible. All I ever wanna do is cry. I never want to go out. I kinda want to die.”

“Oh Pete.” Dr. Henry ran a hand through his hair and tucked the pen behind his ear. “I’m gonna get you some medicine, okay? We can get that fixed. It might take a while, but we can get you out of that hole.” Then he paused. “Have your parents talked about talents at all?”

“I have an aunt who’s got one. We never talk to her though. But besides that... I don’t think so.” Pete tried to remember a time when his parents sat him down and talked about what happened, but he couldn’t remember.

“You’re starting to show signs that you might be the one in your family to get that. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but maybe after you get this, your emotions will get a little better.”

Pete started wringing his hands. “What usually happens?”

“It differs for everyone. Some people get really sick. Some people have terrible mood swings. Some people have absolutely nothing happen at all. But it’s definitely a possibility.”

“When is that supposed to happen?”

“There isn’t a specific age group, but the death of your father may have excelled it a little bit.”

Pete picked a loose thread off of his shirt. He didn’t want to be the one to get whatever this was. The stories his mom had told about her sister didn’t sound like a lot of fun.

“Don’t worry Pete, everyone is going to be around to help you. Today was good, alright? Here’s what we’re going to do. We are gonna keep meeting, and I’ll prescribe you some anti-depressants. Can you start trying in school again? Maybe take up a new hobby?”

“Well, I have always wanted to take up bass.” his voice was quiet, but Dr. Henry grinned.

“That’s good. I will personally go out and find you one. We’re going to make you whole again, I promise.”

Just because Pete nodded didn’t mean he believed him.

***

Patrick had always been a strange child.

He was always happy, which freaked his older sister and brother out. It was strange, seeing a five year old scrape his knee and stand up with that same loopy grin on his face. He presented his mother with blades of grass pulled up from the lawn and made mud pies for his father.

Patrick’s mother sometimes referred to him as the sun, because Patrick could light up a room with one toothless smile. He presented the room with a happy atmosphere.

Even when Patrick’s parents divorced when he was eight, Patrick stayed positive. He believed everything happened for a reason and he just needed to wait patiently for it to fix itself.

As he grew however, Patrick came to realize that this was simply just not the case. Bad things happened to everyone, and staying positive was going to take a lot of hard work. It was so much easier just to stay negative. Staying negative meant that when disappointments came into his life, it wouldn’t take much effort to get over it.

His teenage years were especially the worst. Patrick didn’t have any close friends and he never really got involved in anything. His siblings were off doing their own thing, leaving Patrick to wander the house alone. One day, after school, Patrick’s mother sat him down on his bed. She reached for both his hands and offered him the biggest smile she could muster.

“How you doing?”

It was a simple question, sure. But Patrick felt his entire world crumple right then and there. She hugged him tightly, letting him cry into her shoulder.

“It’s okay baby, I’m right here. You’re okay.”

“It’s too hard to stay happy momma,” he said with a shaky breath. “Nobody likes me. I’m the weird kid.”

“I know it’s hard Patrick, but we aren’t like the others. You know that.”

“I just want to be normal.”

“You weren’t meant to be normal baby. You were meant to excel in this world.” she sighed. “I spoke with your father on the phone the other day. We were talking about the possibly of the talent gene being passed into our family. Megan and Kevin are probably too old to get it, so that leaves you.”

Patrick sat up, confusion masking his face. “Are you telling me I’m gonna get powers?”

“That’s what we’re thinking. And I know you will put that to good use.”

He stared at his hands, flipping them so he could see both sides. The little knicks he had from past injuries seemed really interesting at the moment. The fact that he would be the one with the talent kind of scared him. He never thought he would get it.

Never in a million years.

“I know it’s a scary thought. It’s going to take a lot of work to learn how to work it, but I think we can do it. What do you think?”

Patrick looked up at his mom’s hopeful smile. He knew she was being positive for him, but Patrick didn’t feel positive about this situation at all. Everything right now was too hard for him. School, social life, family... it was too much to balance.

“I think I’m going to fail.”

“Don’t say that Pat. I know being positive is hard. It’s always going to be hard. Making the right decisions is always harder than choosing the wrong ones. And you are always going to be presented with a choice to approach a situation with a positive or negative viewpoint. Being negative is always going to be easier. But Patrick, you are still my sun, and you have always managed to light up a room. I can trust your judgement.”

He sighed, but Mom was right. Patrick had to stay positive for his mother, because she had done everything for him, and he loved her with his entire heart.

“Okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

She squeezed his hand. “That’s my boy.”

***

So while Pete went through life with a tough shell and a soft heart, Patrick went through with a smile and a locked trunk for all his problems. Both had their issues, but that was what made them who they were.

One night, Patrick was walking downtown to go pick up some dinner. He knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to be out while the sun was setting, but hey, Patrick was hungry and too lazy to cook so this was what he was doing. Besides, he could make anyone bothering him go away.

He pulled the sleeves of his cardigan farther over his hands with a small shiver, quickly glancing at the people passing him on the street. Nobody seemed to be giving him much attention, but Patrick always had been nervous. He wasn’t very intimidating, and never had been. In fact, if he didn’t have the talent he had then there would be no way in hell he would go out walking.

Suddenly, there came loud shouting from around the corner. People were pausing to look, and Patrick couldn’t resist looking. He was going that way anyways.

In front of a bar stood two men: one with dark hair and one with blonde. Patrick watched the dark haired guy punch the blonde one in the face. More yelling followed.

Now, on any other day, Patrick would have stayed far far _far_ away from two heavily tattooed men fighting outside a bar. But this blonde guy, he wasn’t human. Patrick hadn’t seen another talent in years.

“Hey!” Patrick yelled, squeezing in between the two men. He placed a hand protectively behind him in front of the blonde haired guy, who was holding his own hand over his bleeding nose. The dark haired guy raised his hand to hit Patrick, but Patrick wasn’t going to let that happen. “Get out of here!”

The dark haired guy blinked, turned around, and walked away. Patrick swiveled around, allowing his eyes to drain back to green as the blonde guy stepped back in shock.

“Uh, sorry if that freaked you out. I just, wow. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say exactly. But I haven’t seen another talent in years and you looked like you were in trouble so-”

“I don’t need a nerd to fight my battles for me.” he glared at Patrick, smearing some of the blood on his jeans. Patrick shrugged and pushed his glasses farther up his nose.

“Like I said. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” he cleared his throat. “Pete. My name is Pete.”

“Patrick. Do you, uh, need help cleaning up or something?”

“No.” Pete wiped his nose once more. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Well. Take care then Pete.” Patrick flashed a smile and turned to leave when Pete cleared his throat.

“Wait! Wait. Do you, would you, uhm, maybe, like, wanna go get dinner or something?” Pete refused to make eye contact and instead focused on pushing a rock around with his foot. Patrick stared in a little bit of confusion.

“Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“No. Of course not. Nevermind. Forget I asked.” Pete’s entire posture turned, and he suddenly looked cold. “Look out. It isn’t very smart for someone like you to be out walking around.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “I’ll keep that in mind. See ya around Pete.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

And just like that, Patrick was walking away, leaving Pete still bleeding on the sidewalk.

***

For two weeks, Pete stood outside that same bar around the same time he remembered seeing Patrick. He wanted to kick himself.

Pete never really considered his feelings for a significant other. Sure, he had a couple girlfriends in high school, but they hadn’t lasted very long because Pete was the emo kid no one really wanted to talk to. He was the “weird” kid.

He was the “kid whose dad died.”

But this Patrick guy, just... wow. He wasn’t sure what it was about him. Pete didn’t even know the guy, but he certainly wanted to get to know more about him. He wanted to spend hours with this guy.

And maybe it was because he was a talent. Maybe it was because he had the ability to make people do what he wanted.

But Pete didn’t think that was the case.

It was hard for him to talk about things. It was especially hard for him to talk about possibly having feelings for one single guy he met on the street. A guy.

A guy.

Shit.

But _finally_ , Patrick went to go get dinner again. And Pete was waiting there.

“Patrick!” he yelled out as he flagged him down. Patrick raised an eyebrow, surprised Pete was, one, here at the moment, and two, talking to him when he seemed to really not want to do that last time they met.

“Uh, hey Pete. Weird, seeing you here again.”

Pete glanced around them, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Oh yeah. It’s just luck or something. Anyways, uh, I wanted to uhm...” he scratched behind his ear nervously, face flushing red. God, what was this guy doing to him? “you know, what I said was mean, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine. I know things were weird.”

“But I was serious about what I said. Could we, uh, maybe, go out or something? Like to dinner, or...” Pete trailed off, his tongue suddenly way too big in his mouth. Patrick looked at him in interest. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, and Pete thought his eyes were pretty.

Did he just use that word? Really?

Finally, Patrick smiled. “No.”

“No?” Pete was taken off guard and tilted his head in confusion slightly.

“No. I don’t think we are at that point. I mean, last time we talked you were throwing punches and being kind of a dick, no offense. So.”

“Oh. Yeah. I get it. Sorry.”

“But I will give you my phone number. We can talk a bit, get to know some stuff. That way, when we meet in person, we can have some conversation starters and talk like old friends. Sound good?”

Pete nodded. “Sure. I can do that.” he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it so he could pull up the contacts page. Patrick did the same.

After they exchanged numbers, Patrick waved goodbye, and continued on his way, Pete watching from behind.

He had to admit, Patrick had a pretty nice ass.

***

9:47 pm

_Pete: Hiya_

_Patrick: I was waiting for you to text me :)_

_Pete: I was making myself wait a couple hours before I did. Did you enjoy eating dinner? Alone?_

 

9:48 pm

_Patrick: I did. It was very peaceful. Wbu?_

_Pete: Didn’t eat. I wasn’t very hungry._

_Patrick: You should eat_

_Pete: I know_

_Patrick: Hey Pete?_

 

9:50 pm

_Pete: yes?_

_Patrick: I know we don’t know each other very well, but I understand what it’s like to feel alone and stranded and scared._

_Pete: Do you though?_

_Patrick: yes._

 

11:47 pm

_Pete: my parents got divorced when I was little My dad and I, we were close. My mom didn’t let me have any contact with him. And then he died, and that really messed me up. I think that’s why I’m the way I am. I’m afraid to let people in. To get close to people._

_Patrick: my parents got divorced too. I know it’s hard. But you can trust me. I promise._

 

12:05 am

_Pete: how old were you when you went through “the change”_

_Patrick: what, like puberty?_

_Pete: -_-_

_Patrick: joking. I was 17 I think. But my parents helped me through it. I had some exercises and training and stuff to get it under control, but my power is kinda weird. I had some urges, but that's under control now. I have to admit though, I did use it on my parents sometimes. Which was bad, but yeah._

__  
  


12:07 am

_Pete: I was 15. My mom didn’t really care so it was me and the therapist. But he was nice. and we did stuff similar._

_Pete: I can do weird earthquake stuff, by the way. I almost brought the school down. We had to evacuate and everything. That was bad._

_Patrick: Jeez, I bet._

_Pete: but that was about it fortunately. I’ve heard some crazy stories._

_Patrick: So have I._

 

3:51 am

_Pete: are you still awake?_

_Patrick: yep_

_Pete: This is going to sound really weird but you have like, the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen_

_Patrick: oh, uh, thanks. I’ve never heard that before._

_Pete: I was just thinking. Because you are really pretty? And that’s the only word I can find to perfectly describe you_

_Patrick: are you drunk?_

_Pete: I had like, two beers. I’m fine_

_Patrick: you’re pretty too, if we’re admitting things_

_Pete: thanks_

***

Pete tried a lot, to get Patrick to go out with him. It took weeks of “you wanna grab coffee?” or “how’s dinner sound tonight?” before Patrick finally agreed. But Pete felt that maybe Patrick had been right about this. Because he felt he knew everything he needed to know. He knew Patrick’s fears, his favourite colour, his lucky number, his favourite food and drink and song. Patrick knew Pete’s darkest secrets, all about his depression, and his fucked up relationship with his mother. It felt like they had known each other forever.

They met at a coffee shop at 8 pm. It was quiet, the only sounds coming from the one other person in the cafe with a computer and the quiet music playing from the radio. Pete was the first to arrive, his leg shaking no matter what he did to stop it. This was finally happening.

But it didn’t really feel real until Patrick walked in. He was wearing a sweater that came down over his hands and his glasses, and Pete felt his heart practically leap out of his chest. What did this guy _do_ to him?

“Hey,” Pete said with a grin as Patrick slid into the chair across from him. Patrick smiled back.

“Hey yourself.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Just trying to live. Pay bills and stuff.”

“Work going okay?”

“Yeah! I got to sit in the back away from all the people today, so that was good. Just me and the guitars.”

“Good. You got any basses back there?” Pete leaned forward on his elbows, eyes focused on Patrick’s bright expression. He got so excited talking about work. It was nice to finally see it in person.

“Oh God, yes. We got some really nice ones in the other day. You’ll have to stop by and see. There’s a black one with like, red accents and I think you’d really like it.”

“Hey Patrick?” Pete leaned back, his hands going back into the pockets of his hoodie. Patrick looked at him will his still glowing grin.

“What’s up?”

“Why do you work? And pay bills and stuff? You can have anything you want. Why don’t you?”

Patrick shrugged, his face falling slightly. “I don’t know. I didn’t really want this, you know? I just wanted to be normal Patrick. But I do have this, and I still want to feel normal. I will admit, if I miss a payment or something I’ll use it, but that’s only last resort. I just wanna be normal.”

Pete scoffed. “I don’t think we’ll ever be normal.”

“Probably not, but it’s fun to fantasize.” he went back to smiling, pushing out of his chair and standing up. Patrick looked around the empty cafe. “You wanna leave? Go back home and watch a movie or something?”

Pete looked at him like he was crazy. He pointed to the door. “Like, leave here?”

“That’s what ‘you wanna leave’ usually means.”

“Are you serious?”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know why I waited so long. Let’s just go home so I can kiss you.”

That got Pete to crack a smile. “Okay. Yeah. I like that idea.”

***

Three months later, Pete and Patrick were moving in together. It wasn’t a very nice apartment by far, because Patrick still refused to use his actual powers, but it was nice because they could finally be together. And sure, maybe they were taking things too fast, but neither of them cared. If you asked either one, they could honestly say they loved each other. Soulmates, even.

But they did fight. They fought a lot in the first couple of months. Pete was a pessimist while Patrick tried to remain optimistic, but sometimes even Patrick lost his glow. However, the always ended in apologies full of kisses, hugs, and cuddles.

The biggest fight they had came two years later, on a fairly cold night for where they lived. Pete had been downtown getting dinner for the two of them while Patrick remained at home, cleaning some things and sorting out next week’s rent. He realized they were probably going to be short a few hundred dollars, and sighed loudly. So much for being normal.

It had been a couple hours since Pete had gone out, and that worried Patrick. He usually was only gone an hour tops. Pete wasn’t answering his phone either. Patrick had called him twenty-two times and left fifteen voicemails, but still no reply. He wandered to the window to see that it was raining gently, the city lights twinkling in the darkness.

That was it. Patrick was going out to look for him. Maybe he’d find him in a bar or something. If that was the case, he wasn’t going to be happy.

But before Patrick could even gather his stuff together, Pete was bursting into the apartment, causing Patrick to jump in surprise. What surprised him even more was the fact that he had a kid with him. The kid was soaking wet and covered in mud, his shoulders shaking. Patrick noticed he had been crying. Where had this kid come from and why was he here?

“Hey Patrick. Sorry I’m late. This, uhm, this is Tyler.”

Patrick gave a small wave, still confused to what he was doing here. Pete was dinnerless too, he noticed.

“Pete? Can I speak to you? In private?” Patrick forced a smile and pulled on Pete’s arm, dragging him away from Tyler and down the tiny hallway to their bedroom. He slammed the door and turned to start yelling immediately when Pete interrupted.

“Okay, before you start yelling, just hear me out. That kid, he’s scared. He’s only 18, and he’s like us. He accidentally killed someone.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Accidentally killed someone? Are you fucking kidding me? He can’t stay here! The cops are gonna know he’s here! We’re going to go to jail! Pete, you can bring some random person off the street into our home! I thought you were smarter than that!”

“Are you telling me that if you saw this kid on the street you wouldn’t have helped him? Oh, right. Of course not, because you’re nothing but a coward.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m not a coward, I’m just smart. And he cannot stay with us. We don’t have anywhere for him to sleep. That’s an extra mouth we gotta feed. More money we have to pay, more-”

“For fuck’s sake Patrick, you need to stop acting like that’s a big deal! You can tell them to leave us alone! You can tell them we don’t have to pay! You can tell someone to give you their car, or give us a meal! Anything you fucking want!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to do it!” Patrick’s voice rose in volume, his face getting angrier. “You’re always pushing me to use it when I don’t fucking want to! I never asked for this! Never! I don’t want this.” and then he was starting to cry. Ridiculous, that was what this was.

Pete sighed and pushed him down onto the bed, sitting down next to him to comfort him. He wrapped an arm around Patrick’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to make you angry or force you to do anything you don’t want. I know you don’t like it. I’m sorry for pushing you. I just, I can’t really do anything with my powers, you know? It’s just dangerous. I’m hot headed. I get in too many fights. I’m impulsive and don’t think before I act. And now there’s a kid standing in there shivering and scared out of his fucking mind. He didn’t have anyone to help him through this process. We gotta be the ones to help him through. We have to show him, explain to him, how to control it. How to take care of it. His power Patrick, it isn’t like yours or mine. It’s stronger, and much, much worse. We have to help him. Please. Just give him a chance.”

Patrick sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He nodded. “Yeah. We can try. And I’ll do my best to get used to things. Maybe we can find a new place or something. I’ll start using mine.”

“You don’t have to do that Patrick, don’t ever feel like you do.”

“I know. But I’m gonna do it for you. And for that kid. You guys deserve to live in a better environment. And I love you.”

Pete smiled, leaning over to kiss the top of Patrick’s head. “Home is where you are. Nothing else matters.”

They both stood up and shakily walked back out to the living room, where Tyler still stood. He hadn’t even moved, just stood there shaking as water dripped off his clothes to the carpet before. He looked up at Pete and Patrick’s arrival.

Patrick offered a hand. “Hi Tyler. I’m Patrick. Sorry for earlier.”

Tyler didn’t take his hand, just kept them shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes flickering all over the place. Patrick felt the kid might start hyperventilating soon.

So Patrick tucked his hand away and cleared his throat. “You’re safe now, okay? Nobody is going to touch you. We both understand and remember what it was like going through this. We are going to help you, if you let us. Is that okay? Can we help you?”

Pete gently rested a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, who flinched and pulled away. Patrick resisted his urge to groan. Obviously something was wrong with him and he didn’t like touching people. Or he was just being rude, but Patrick doubted that was the case.

“You gotta trust us Tyler.”

Tyler looked between the two of them quickly, before a sigh escaped his lips. He hung his head, voice barely over a whisper. “You can’t touch me. I could hurt you, kill you, I, I...” Tyler trailed off, more tears starting to make their way down his face. Patrick looked at Pete in worry before he moved in closer.

“We were all dangerous once. You gotta trust us when we say that. I got mine at 17, Pete got his at 15. We know it’s scary, but it won’t be like that forever. You’ll get control over it and life will move on. You’re young Tyler, it’s not going to be this way forever okay?”

Tyler sniffed and nodded his head. “Yeah, okay.”

***

Later that night, after Tyler had crashed on the couch muddy clothes and all, Patrick and Pete were laying in bed trying to sleep. Patrick was staring at the ceiling while Pete rested on his side.

Suddenly Patrick said, “Did we just take on the responsibility of helping a teenager go through the dreaded ‘change?’”

Pete snickered and rolled over so he was also staring at the ceiling. “I think so. What do you think?”

“I think we’ll all be okay.”


	4. Gerard & Mikey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest one I've ever written. And it's probably my favourite.
> 
> Warnings on blood, but I think that's about it.

New Jersey.

It wasn’t the greatest place in the world. It was hot and humid and rained a lot, but it was the place Gerard and Mikey Way called home.

To be more specific, they called the 4.3 acre colonial style brick mansion their home. Inside lived the brothers and their parents, as well as two maids, Anna and Martha. Martha had been the boy’s nanny when they were younger.

The Way’s were people of great important. Donna and Donald Way were _extremely_ good at their jobs, and it paid off in their salaries. They weren’t afraid to interact with humans in the real world. Being a different species didn’t matter; they could use their skills to be better at their jobs. The only trade off was that this meant they were married to their work.

The boys didn’t see their parents that often. Martha took care of them day and night. She practically raised them, and often referred to them as her own. The boys had a strict schedule; they were homeschooled and spent seven long hours Monday through Friday going over stupid stuff like the pythagorean theorem and natural selection (Although Mikey quite liked science, but Gerard did not, so he pretended he didn’t either.) Not everything was terrible though. They also got to practice instruments, because practicing a skill increased intelligence. Mikey loved watching Gerard practice because he was so good at everything he did and Mikey didn’t think he was really that good at anything. Mikey always wanted to play outside, but Martha never let him.

So because the boys hardly ever saw their parents, and they were homeschooled and didn’t get much human interaction, they tended to spend a lot of time with each other. They would spend long nights staying up watching movies in Gerard’s room, or reading comic books and discussing why Batman would dominate Superman in any fight, or laying on the floor listening to this new song Gerard just _had_ to show Mikey. Mikey wasn’t that much younger than Gerard, but it was still enough to the point where he idolized his brother. Gerard was cool. Gerard was talented. Mikey wanted to be exactly like him.

And they did fight sometimes, that was a given. All siblings fought. Mikey was aware he really could be annoying, but he liked to joke and tease and push his luck.

When Mikey was eight years old, Gerard was up in his room with an electronic keyboard plucking out keys. He had his sleeves rolled up and the tip of a pen in his mouth, eyes crinkled in frustration. Mikey watched his brother through a crack in the door as Gerard tore out a page of his notebook, crumbled it into a ball, and tossed it across the room with the forty other pieces of paper. Mikey frowned, and pushed into Gerard’s room so he could sit down on his bed.

Gerard stared at him in a huff, one eyebrow raised as he dropped the pen on top of his notebook and leaned against the wall. Mikey swung his feet, watching Gerard curiously.

“Whatcha doin’?” he dragged out the words with one large toothy grin. Gerard rolled his eyes.

“Now is really not the time Mikey.”

“Why not? You don’t seem to be doing anything important.”

“I am. I’m doing something really important. I’m trying to write and you’re not helping.”

Mikey frowned. “Why not? I’m not doing anything. I just wanted to see if you wanted to play.”

Gerard stared at him for a good three seconds before he scoffed. “I’m almost twelve Mikey. I don’t have time to play with your action figures.”

“Oh come on Gerard, that’s not true. You played with me just the other day!”

“Yeah, and now I’m telling you I don’t do that. I gotta start acting like a big kid. We can watch a movie later or something, okay? I’m trying to do something and you’re being really annoying.”

“I didn’t even do anything!”

“Just get out of my room and leave me alone! What are you, deaf?” Gerard huffed again and stood up to make a move at Mikey to force him to leave, but Mikey was already jumping off the bed. He stared at his brother with a quivering lip, and with his head tilted up, he took off running down the hallway. Mikey took the stairs two at a time and slid into the den so he could crouch in between the couch and the wall. His special spot he went to think. Nobody could see him there.

Gerard was mean.

It wasn’t that Mikey hated playing alone, it was that he had so much more fun when he could play with Gerard. Mikey didn’t have many friends. Sure, he knew a couple kids, like his parents friend’s children, but they only talked to Mikey because they _had_ too. They told Mikey he was weird and different. And Mikey didn’t like them very much as it was, because they were human and Mikey was not.

Sometimes Mikey wished he was human.

“Hey buddy?”

Mikey heard Gerard calling for him, but he didn’t answer. Gerard was mean. He hated him.

“Mikey?” Gerard crouched down right in front of Mikey, who stuck out his tongue and turned away from him. He sighed. “Come on Mikey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be mean.”

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m not. I was just frustrated. You know how that is. I’ve been trying to write something all day and it won’t come up. Playing is the best thing I could do right now.”

Mikey grinned into his shoulder before wiping it off his face and turning to face his brother. “I thought you were too old.”

Gerard shrugged. “I lied.” he offered a hand to Mikey. “Come on. Don’t be a loser.”

Mikey pouted as he crawled out into the open room. “I’m not a loser.”

Gerard chuckled. “Okay buddy, sure.”

***

Sometimes Mikey had nightmares.

He would wake up in a breathy panic, sweat clinging to his hairline and clothes. Mikey would never go to his parents about it though.

He went to Gerard.

Gerard was used to having Mikey push open his cracked door at four in the morning and come in crawl into bed with him. It wasn’t something that bothered him at all. Seeing Mikey drag a blue blanket with race cars on it down the hall could be really cute sometimes, and he never minded the extra warmth in his bed.

Gerard wrapped his arm around his brother as Mikey settled into the bed next to him. He was shaking, face shoved into his balled up blanket.

“You wanna talk about it?” Gerard whispered, tracing his fingers gently down Mikey’s arm. Mikey pulled his face away and took a deep breath. He wiped away some of the tears dribbling off his nose.

“Gerard, you love me right?”

“Of course I do buddy. You’re my brother.”

“Yeah, but what if I wasn’t your brother?”

“If you weren’t my brother, I wouldn’t know who you were. What’s going on Mikey?”

Mikey took another deep breath. “Mom and Dad don’t love me.”

Gerard sighed, tightening his grip around him. “Don’t say that. They do too. They’re just busy all the time.”

“One day you’re going to leave and I’ll be all alone. I can’t tell Mom and Dad about my nightmares. What am I going to do?”

“When you get older like me, you don’t have nightmares anymore. You know they aren’t real so they turn into regular dreams.”

Mikey was quiet, his sniffling the only sound in the room. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Gerard reached over to take Mikey’s hand in his. “I’m not gonna go anywhere buddy, okay? I’m always going to be here.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mikey shifted his position so he was looking at his brother directly in the eyes. “Will you sing to me?”

Gerard chuckled, but nodded his head. “Okay. Close your eyes and get comfortable.”

The minute Mikey closed his eyes, Gerard began to softly hum a familiar lullaby Mikey knew by heart. He always had Gerard sing to him. It made him feel safe.

It made him feel calm.

When Mikey’s breathing slowed and his eyelids stopped fluttering, Gerard smiled in the darkness and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead.

“Sleep well buddy.”

***

When Gerard was fourteen years old, he was able to leave the house and go into the city. He did that a lot, leaving Mikey to wander the giant house himself. But Gerard would bring home candy bars and comics, and the two would sit in the basement and read together like they always did. Gerard would tell Mikey what he saw, what he did, that kind of stuff. Mikey was jealous.

“I met someone today,” Gerard said after swallowing a mouth full of Hershey’s. Mikey was breaking off pieces of his and arranging them on top of his comic.

“Who?” he asked in reply without looking up from his chocolate pile.

“His name is Ray. We met in the comic book store. He’s sixteen and he’s human, but he’s pretty cool. We have a lot in common actually. I think that we might be friends soon. He said he wanted to hang out sometime!”

“Woah.” Mikey slid a chocolate piece under his tongue and let it melt halfway before finishing his statement. “Like, an actual real life friend?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool? Like, I like hanging out with you, don’t get me wrong. But hanging out with Ray will be cool. It’s cool hanging out with a human. It’s interesting. It’s even more interesting having to keep our species a secret.”

Miked picked at the fibers on the carpet with chocolate covered fingers, not caring he was staining the white with dark brown. “Are you gonna stop hanging out with me?”

“Of course not! I’m just saying. You’re a lot younger than me.”

“I’m eleven. That’s not that young.”

“But Ray is sixteen Mikey. That’s really old. He can drive. He has a job!” Gerard blinked a couple of times. “He’s kind of pretty too.”

“Woah. Pretty? Can you think that?”

“Well sure. Why not? Girls think other girls are pretty all the time. I can think a guy is pretty if I want too.”

“I guess that’s true.” Mikey put another piece of chocolate in his mouth. “You think Mom and Dad will let me go into the city with you?”

Gerard sighed loudly as he dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t think Mom and Dad will care. It’s Martha you gotta look out for. It took years of begging for me to even start.”

“You promise Ray won’t replace me?”

“You’re my brother Mikey. No one is going to replace you. Stop being so paranoid you dork.” he shoved Mikey playfully, and the two of them broke out in soft laughter.

“You promise?” Mikey repeated after their laughter died down. Gerard started to roll his eyes, but Mikey was being completely serious.

“Yeah. I promise.” they linked pinkies and went back to reading comics.

***

Through Gerard’s latter teenage years, he began to grow distant from Mikey. At first, it was little things, like spending all his time in his room rather than downstairs with his brother. When Mikey came to ask Gerard if he wanted to watch a movie or suggested they listen to music, Gerard would claim he was busy.

Some days, Gerard would be extremely happy go lucky. He’d smile the whole day, asking Martha and Anna if they needed help. He’d cook desserts for his parents and set up the coffee pot and write while he happily hummed under his breath. Mikey liked these days.

Other days, Gerard would get dark. He’d lock himself in his room and scream and break things. Mikey could hear him through the walls of his own room. He was getting worried. One day Gerard was happy and the next day he was not. Mikey didn’t understand what was going on. His brother used to be his best friend, and now, he would barely even look at him.

“Is it my fault?” Mikey shouted as he threw open Gerard’s bedroom door with enough force to dent the wall behind it. Gerard looked up from a mess of scribbles in his notebook below, hair unwashed (as it had been for weeks) and eyes red rimmed. There wasn’t any other way to put it: Gerard looked awful.

He stared at Mikey unhappily, anger flashing like red lights in his eyes. Mikey prepared himself for Gerard to yell at him to get out.

“Mikey,” he started, but Mikey wasn’t going to have that happen.

“No, I’m serious. We used to be best friends man! Now you won’t even talk to me! Please, I need to know what’s going on. I need to know what I did wrong so I won’t do it again. You’re all I have Gerard. I can’t lose you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not you Mikey. I promise, it’s not you and it will never be you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel terrible. My body is doing weird things. I tried to call Mom and Dad on the phone but they didn’t answer and I’m so frickin scared man.”

Mikey stared at him with sympathy as he walked over to pull his brother into a hug. “I’m sorry. Just remember, I’m here if you need me, okay?”

“I know. I-” he shook his head and pushed hair out of his face once more. Gerard really needed a haircut. “Thanks. Just, I gotta be alone for a little while, okay? I’m sure it’s nothing. I probably just caught a bug that won’t go away.” Gerard forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Mikey was wary, but he stood up and firmly nodded his head. “Okay.”

“I’m fine Mikey,” Gerard repeated as Mikey left his room and shut the door.

Mikey didn’t believe him.

***

Gerard was terribly sick.

He was in bed for three weeks, and during these three weeks he was constantly coughing and puking and sweating. Mikey stayed away, one because he knew Gerard would yell at him if he visited and two because Mikey was terrified. Gerard seemed like he was going to die.

He was only 17. He couldn’t die.

Late one night, around eleven, Mikey heard voices in the entryway. He darted out of his room to the top of the staircase, making sure to stay hidden in the shadows.

His mouth dropped when he realized it was his own parents whispering in hushed tones, and they were making their way upstairs. Mikey knew his parents were aware their eldest was sick with what could possibly lead to death, but they refused to have him see a doctor when Martha insisted. Mikey wondered why.

He also wondered why they were home so early. No matter how late Mikey stayed up, he never seemed to be able to catch his parents. This must be urgent.

And that terrified him.

Mikey slipped back into his room as his parents made their way down the hallway and into Gerard’s room. Why were they going in there? Why were they _home_?

He followed them, crouching quietly outside Gerard’s cracked door so he could listen in on what they were going to say.

Mom sat down on the edge of Gerard’s bed, face masked in worry. His father leaned against the wall.

“How you doing baby?”

Gerard grunted in reply, trying his best to push himself up so he could actually engage in conversation, as much as he didn’t want to. Mikey wondered if he was happy their parents were visiting him. He himself couldn’t remember the last time the two had talked about their parents in general.

“I’m, uh, not well.” he let out a loud cough, frigid pale skin shooting out from under the comforter to grip the bed frame in support. Their mother’s frown deepened.

“Uh, Gerard, we know we haven’t seen you in a while, you and Mikey, but you know that we love you a lot, right?” Dad asked as he played with his wedding ring. Gerard nodded.

Mikey thought he was lying.

“Okay baby, you gotta listen closely okay? This is going to sound really hard to believe, but try and bare with us.”

Gerard looked between his parents in suspicion, but eventually nodded his head. Another coughing fit ensued.

Their father sighed. “Okay, now we had Martha talk to us about what’s been going on when we aren’t home. She says you’ve been very moody these past couple of years. That you’ve been struggling with mood swings and taking showers and wanting to do stuff. Is that true?”

Gerard shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And now you’ve been sicker than a dog.” Father looked over at Mother to continue.

“You understand that we are a different species, right baby? That we’ve evolved stronger and faster and better than the human race.”

“Right...” Gerard looked confused.

“I know we have never sat down and had a rightful conversation about it, but our species has something weird happen to it. We can develop pockets in our generation that bring out special things our species can do. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but it’s happening to you right now. We call them talents. Like our species name.”

“What?”

“My great grandma, who has long since passed away, had a talent. She could vibrate at different frequencies so quickly that she could practically turn invisible. She went through the same process you are right now.”

“Wait.” Gerard scooted farther up his bed, the idea still not processing in his head. He let out another loud cough before continuing. “Are you telling me that I’m going to have super powers?”

“Well, not exactly. They aren’t super powers. It’s just something extra, something to help you out. We can’t know what it is until you start figuring that out, but you’re showing all the signs of it. Cranky mood swings, not having the energy to do anything, growing cold, and now this. Sick and not showing signs of getting much better. But you are Gerard. You’re body is preparing itself for something bigger. Something better. It’s kind of like a second puberty almost, but a lot more nicer to your skin.” Dad laughed loudly at his own joke, but quickly stopped as the air went awkward and stale. Gerard was still trying to process all this information. Mikey, well Mikey couldn’t believe it.

How long had the two of them sat in the basement reading comic books about superheroes? How long had they talked about who would win against who, and what they would choose if they could have one? And now Gerard, who hadn’t talked to Mikey willingly in years, was going to get super powers. That wasn’t fair.

But if anyone deserved them, it was Gerard.

“It’s a lot to deal with, we know that. We didn’t think that you or Mikey would get it, so we never bothered talking to you about it. We probably should have, but we didn’t. We’re very sorry about that. But that’s why we didn’t let Martha take you to the hospital. They don’t understand our species. We try to hide away. And you have to keep what you have a secret, understand? Don’t tell Mikey or anyone else.”

Gerard nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I won’t tell nobody.”

Their mother patted her son on the leg and pulled a small slip of paper out of her pocket. “This is our emergency number. If you have any questions or need to get a hold of us right away, call us. We want to be updated on your transformation, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good.” she smiled and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the forehead. “The bad parts are almost over. I can find a friend or someone to help you learn about control, okay? We’ll figure this out together. Don’t be a stranger.”

“You’re already strangers,” Mikey muttered under his breath. He turned and scampered back down the hallway to his bedroom. Mikey knew his parents weren’t coming to see him. They were here for Gerard and Gerard only.

Mikey was still going to be alone.

***

When Gerard got better, he started behaving like he had in the past. The only problem was he still tried to avoid his brother.

Mikey knew he wasn’t supposed to know that Gerard was some super freak extraordinaire, but he wished that he would talk to him again. Gerard was going to be leaving the house for college soon and then Mikey would probably never see his brother ever again.

Every week Gerard would leave for a “tutoring lesson,” but Mikey really knew what it was. He was practicing his power, trying to get a hold of it. Mikey wished he knew what that power was. He wondered if Gerard had heat vision like Superman, or water powers like Aquaman. He could be Spiderman for all he knew.

Mikey was tired of being alone.

One day Gerard came home with bright red hair. Mikey had been sitting on the stairs with a notebook, doodling. The brothers locked eyes for a second before Gerard was scowling and Mikey was jumping up from his seat.

“Gerard,” he shouted as he followed his brother down the hallway to the kitchen. “What did you do to your hair?”

“I changed it up,” he replied with a shrug. “I can do whatever I want. Now leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Mikey stopped following him.

Sometimes, late at night, Mikey could hear Gerard downstairs cradling the house phone as he updated his parents on his progress. He sounded really excited about it, which pained Mikey even more. Their friendship really was over.

He would try to listen in to try and get a hint of what Gerard could do, but nothing ever came up in the conversation. Then Gerard would come upstairs and whisk down the hallway, Mikey safely watching from behind his cracked bedroom door. He wished he was human with all his might. Humans didn’t have to deal with this. Humans didn’t get superpowers. Humans didn’t have to watch their brother turn into a big fat jerk and ignore their little brother for the rest of their life. Humans didn’t have to suffer.

Maybe that last part wasn’t true, but it felt like it to Mikey.

***

Gerard was eighteen, and he was leaving.

All his schooling was complete and he was now making his way to some high tech university to study something Mikey couldn’t remember to save his life. The house felt emptier without Gerard. It had always been a big house, but now Mikey was all alone.

Gerard was going to miss his birthday, Mikey remembered. He was turning fifteen. That was almost sixteen. Mikey could go out into the city. He could go buy chocolate bars and comic books just like old times.

But unlike old times, he’d have to eat and read alone.

Mikey hated being alone.

Silence was like standing in a dark room with one tiny flickering match for light. It was a deafening sound in his ears, one that made him want to shove both his hands over his ears and scream until his voice was gone. Being alone was terrible, and now Mikey was going to have to be alone for the next three years.

***

“I think he’s depressed,” Mikey overheard Martha whisper into the phone one day. He had left his room to come grab a snack, but this phone call caught his attention. It was true, he supposed. Ever since Gerard had left for college, Mikey really had not wanted to do anything. He never left his room and usually laid on the carpet staring blindly at the rotating blades of the ceiling fan. It was an almost hypnotic feel.

Mikey didn’t have the urge to do a single thing. He sometimes even forgot to eat if he wasn’t careful. In fact, the last time he had taken a shower must have been like...

Shit.

He couldn’t even remember that.

 _Was_ he depressed? Is that all this was? Did Mikey miss his brother that much that he could function like a normal person? It was ridiculous. Everything about this was ridiculous. Gerard was gone. Mikey needed to get over it.

He was going to get over it.

So Mikey forgot his snack idea and walked into the next room where Martha leaned into the corner, the phone cradled between the crook of her neck, and caught her attention. She let out a small gasp before clearing her throat and standing up straight.

“I’ll have to call you back,” she whispered quickly before slamming the phone back on the wall. Then she gave Mikey a big smile.

“Hey,” he grinned back, despite the fact that he didn’t want to at all.

“Hello Michael! It’s been so long since we’ve talked. How are you doing?”

“I’m good. I was gonna go take a shower. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine honey. It’s really good to see you. I’ve been really worried lately. You know, because Gerard left and you-”

“Yeah I know, but I’m okay, really. I’ve just been distracted. You don’t need worry about me Martha. I’m fine.” he forced a smile again. Mikey didn’t want anyone to worry about him. He was fine.

She looked relieved, but not fully convinced. “Already sweetheart, just... you can talk to me if you need anything, okay? I’m always here.”

“I know. Everything is good. I’m gonna go take a shower now. If I slip and fall I’ll call for you.”

“Okay honey.”

One nod later, Mikey was upstairs stripping of his clothes and climbing into the scalding water. He laid his head against the tile with a shaky sigh. Why was he being like this? Ridiculous.

Maybe he should tell someone he was feeling sad. He didn’t want to end up being distant and moody like Gerard. But this was about Gerard. He was sad because he missed his best friend. His best friend who ignored him.

“Fuck you,” he whispered. It was aimed at Gerard, like he would somehow hear it. Whatever. Gerard was all the way on the other side of the country.

Mikey pushed up from the wall and put shampoo in his hands, preparing to start lathering it in his hair.

Except he could see through his right hand.

With a loud gasp, Mikey tumbled backwards, his hands flying out to stop him from falling. Unfortunately his hands were coated in shampoo so that didn’t help him that much. Mikey’s forehead collided with the facet and he collapsed to the shower floor, water pouring on top of him. Black spots were starting to cloud his vision, and he could feel blood seeping down the back of his neck and into his eyes. Fantastic. He was going to die and they were going to find him naked and covered in blood. That’s not how he wanted to go out.

“Michael? Are you okay?” Martha shouted over the sound of roaring water, but Mikey couldn’t answer. His blood was pounding in his ears.

He was thankful he didn’t lock the door. Martha pushed it open quickly and gasped when she spotted Mikey on the floor behind the frosted glass. Mikey couldn’t comprehend what had happened. His brain was pounding.

“Oh my God!” she sounded like she was about to start hyperventilating as the water was shut off and hands were grabbing at his shoulders to help him up. Had his hand really been transparent? Or was he seeing things?

“I didn’t think I’d actually fall,” he chuckled halfheartedly, earning a death glare from Martha. She flashed him a disapproving look before grabbing his towel and wrapping it tightly around him.

“I’ll get you clothes and we’re going to the hospital. Put this on it to slow the bleeding, okay? You’ll probably need stitches.” After handing him a washcloth, she left the room briefly to fetch him clothes, and Mikey looked at himself in the mirror. There was a gigantic gash just above his left eyebrow, blood still leaking down the side of his face. He still couldn’t see fully and his head was still pounding; he looked like the victim of a serial killer. There was also no way he could go to the hospital. He remembered what his parents had told Gerard. They had to keep their species a secret. But the gash did look really terrible, and the washcloth was already filling with blood and it wasn’t slowing down.

“Dammit Gerard, where are you when I need you?” he sighed, shifting the cloth being held to his head to a different position. Maybe if he just called his brother and asked what he should do...

“Michael?” Martha knocked on the door and Mikey was taking one look at himself in the mirror before he was making a beeline to the toilet and throwing up the crackers and coffee he had in the last twenty-four hours. Martha sighed loudly, giving up and pushing into the bathroom. She set down Mikey’s clothes on the sink and stood behind him. “I’m sorry baby, I know this isn’t fun. I can’t look at blood either.”

Mikey didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t feel sick. Blood didn’t make him feel sick. So why was he here right now?

“I can’t go to the hospital.” he managed to spit out before heaving again. Mikey was the definition of cool right now. Naked, bloody and puking. No wonder he had so many friends.

“Don’t start this with me, you have too.”

“I can’t. Call my parents and tell them what happened. They won’t let me.”

“Michael-”

“I’m fine!” Martha was startled at Mikey’s sudden change in tone. He spit before flushing the toilet and using the porcelain to pull himself up, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? It’s not scabbing Mikey. Please, let me take you to the hospital.”

And then Mikey started crying.

Martha sighed softly as she pulled the sobbing teenager close and allowed him to cry into her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she soothed, but Mikey knew it was far from okay. He missed Gerard.

Everything was Gerard’s fault.

***

Mikey gave into Martha’s pleads and allowed her to take him to the hospital. He changed into the clothes she brought him, not even bothering to fully dry off. Together they drove quickly, Mikey still holding that damn bloody rag to his forehead as he stared at the window. He didn’t want them to do any X-rays or anything that would give away that he was another species. That would be hard to explain to Martha, the doctor, _and_ his parents.

So Mikey ended with ten perfectly spaced stitches right above his left eyebrow. He hoped it would scar so he could at least look badass. Not that he would have a badass story to tell. Falling in the shower wasn’t something that usually happened to fifteen year olds.

Martha made him stay in bed the rest of the day. Mikey ended up with a 103 degree fever, but at least he wasn’t puking anymore. She brought him up a bottle of sprite.

“How you doing buddy?” asked Martha as she sat down on the end of the bed. You could definitely tell working for the Way’s for almost twenty years was putting a toll on her. Grey was starting to sprout in her dark hair just enough to make her look official and someone not to be messed with.

“I’m fine.” Mikey knew he was a pain in the ass most of the time, but Martha was a good person and was there more than his stupid parents.

“You’ve had an eventful day, huh?”

Mikey laughed softly. “Oh yeah. Definitely.”

She patted his leg. “Get some rest, okay? You’ll feel better soon.”

When she stood to leave, Mikey opened his mouth to talk again. “Hey Martha?”

“Yeah Michael?”

“Thank you. For everything you do. I know I’m a monster to deal with. Especially after Gerard left.”

“You’re welcome. I love you. Sleep well.” she blew him a kiss and shut the door quietly, leaving Mikey alone in his hatred for deafening silence.

***

Mikey got better three days later and tried his hardest to remain upbeat and happy for the next year. He felt terrible and always wanted to cower away in the corner of his bedroom, but he forced himself to be happy and engage in conversation. He attended his parents dinner parties and talked to the other kids despite the fact that he hated conversation with these stupid spoiled rich kids. He hadn’t had any other mishaps with the shower or seeing his hand go translucent, so Mikey could use the scientific method to conclude he had seen it.

His pubescent teen years moved along at the pace of a snail. He turned sixteen with nothing eventful happening. Mikey hadn’t seen his brother in two years. He hadn’t come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, not even New Year’s. Mikey figured Gerard was trying to break off from his family. If he was being honest, Mikey didn’t blame him.

And if being a moody teenager wasn’t enough, weird things started happening once more. Mikey would fall asleep and find himself in the next room over or downstairs sometimes even. He never had been a sleepwalker, but this was starting to get annoying. Mikey got this terrible cold and it felt like he had had it for months on end. God, did he hate being a teenager. School sucked and he wanted to do absolutely nothing but lay on the floor all year. Was he having an existential crisis already? It wouldn’t be shocking.

Something told him this wasn’t about Gerard anymore.

Mikey was on summer break when he finally realized something was terribly wrong. It had been another holiday season without Gerard or his parents in general and a cold winter. He was happy it was finally summer and he could do whatever he wanted.

Mikey was sitting in the basement flipping through a tabloid magazine eating a cheese stick. He didn’t want to read this stupid thing but somehow got sucked into it. Tabloids could do that to you.

He came across a section about The Bahama’s being a great vacation spot. Even though they could afford it, Mikey never had been on a legitimate vacation. He always had wanted to visit Rome. It was so cool to him. He pictured being a normal human tourist with one of those big clunky cameras snapping pictures of the rough molded stone of the Colosseum. It was hard to believe those buildings had been around for such a long time.

And suddenly the hot sun was pouring down on Mikey’s face.

His eyes shot open in point two seconds, mouth gaping as he realized he was no longer in safety of his New Jersey basement. Nope, he was now sitting on a bench in front of the Colosseum, a hoard of tourists surrounding him all with their little hats and latching on to the sticky hands of children. Mikey’s stomach dropped.

_No._

_Nonononononononononono._

How was he here? How did he get here? It didn’t make sense. There was no way this could have happened. He had to be dreaming. How could he be in New Jersey one second and Italy the next? Unless...

_Fuck._

It all made sense. The mood swings, getting sick, his _goddamn hand_ in the shower... Mikey had ignored all the signs because it just didn’t make any sense. Gerard was the one with the talent, not him. It was rare. It was so rare that barely anyone got it and here was Mikey in fucking _Rome_. How was he going to get back home? What the fuck was he going to do? His parents didn’t talk to him about this. Nobody thought two people were going to get this “talent gene” or whatever the hell is was called. Mikey was screwed.

And to make matters worse, he was still in his pajamas.

He had to think quick. He had to get out of Rome before he got killed, or someone noticed he was gone, or before Mikey ended up appearing in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and drowned. Teleportation. He could teleport.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself because the realization still wasn’t processing. He had ended up in Rome because he was thinking about it. So all he had to do was think of his bedroom or something and he should be back, right?

Unfortunately, it was not that simple. Because Mikey could not remember what his bedroom or his whole house for that matter even looked like. He forgot.

Okay, then maybe he could picture the state of New Jersey as a whole. Grassland and the Chesapeake.

Oh God. What if the government found out about their species and what they could do? Would they do experiments on him because Mikey no longer needed to pay for travel? He should be excited about this, but it was the opposite in fact.

And then Mikey was standing in another crowd of tourists right in front of the Washington Monument. _Fuck!_

This was not working. How was he doing this? He didn’t know how it worked. Mikey thought he was going to throw up. He needed to find a phone, needed to call Gerard and ask him what he needed to do. He was scared out of his mind.

It didn’t take long before he found a payphone. He inputted the number Gerard had left for their parents (Mikey told himself he would never give in to calling Gerard, but he still memorized the number. Thank God for that.)

“Hello?” Gerard’s voice echoed through the phone, and Mikey swallowed. It had been too long.

“Gerard? It’s Mikey. I uh, have a problem.” He was trying his hardest not to freak out.

“Mikey? Why the hell are you calling me from Washington D.C.?”

“Uhm, yeah, funny story. I was uh, just in Rome actually.”

“Rome... Italy?”

“Yeah... and now I’m in D.C. and I can’t figure out how to get home.”

“Mikey?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you telling me you can teleport?”

Mikey shrugged, forgetting Gerard couldn’t see that. “Maybe?” he squeaked out. Gerard sighed. “Go over by the Lincoln Monument. Give me five minutes.” Then the phone clicked off, leaving nothing but the tone. Mikey took a deep breath and trudged over to sit by Abe Lincoln. The 1800’s must have been a much simpler time.

True to his statement, Gerard appeared magically about three feet away from where Mikey sat. People had been giving him and his Superman pajamas weird looks, but what could he do?

Gerard was panting as he approached his brother. Mikey was in awe. Gerard looked a lot more older and more mature than the last time Mikey had seen him. His hair was still bright red.

“Surprise,” Gerard said between short breaths. “I gotta eat. Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“How...”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

“So... I’ve got powers.” Gerard said the minute the two sat down at a table in a McDonald’s. Gerard had ordered a lot of food.

“Yeah... I knew that. I just didn’t realize you were The Flash now.” Mikey watched his brother unwrap a burger and scarf it down in two bites. He then reached for another.

“Yeah. Faster everything I suppose. Sorry I haven’t talked to you in forever. I got distracted. I also wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.” he pointed to his forehead. “What happened here?”

Mikey grinned sheepishly. His shower wound did end up scarring. “I fell in the shower. My hand went see through and it freaked me out. But that was over a year ago. And now I guess I’m like you.”

“I can’t believe you went through that entire process without anyone knowing. And you’re still going through it.” Gerard shook his head as he reached for yet another burger. He pushed one Mikey’s way. “You should eat. Traveling through time and space puts a major toll on your body.”

His stomach grumbled then, and Mikey gave into temptation. “I didn’t think it was anything important,” he announced with his mouth full. Gerard groaned and turned away. “You were the one with the powers, not me. It’s rare.”

“How did you know I had it anyways? No one told you.”

“I overheard that night Mom and Dad came to talk to you.”

“How did you not realize?”

“I told you. I didn’t think about it. God, now it makes sense why I would go to sleep and wake up in different places. What if I wake up in the Pacific Ocean? I could drown or something.”

Gerard ran a hand through his hair. “You should tell Mom and Dad. They can get you training or help or something. Jesus Mikey, I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone. Think how worried they would have been if you couldn’t get yourself back to the states.”

“I don’t think I’ll even be able to get back to New Jersey. I’m freaking out man.”

“I know it’s a scary process. But you’ve got to study it, figure it out. Treat it as a part of you and learn everything inside and out. I know you can do that. You’re pretty smart.”

Mikey picked at the bun, afraid to look his brother in the eyes. They hadn’t been close in such a long time.

“Hey Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you a lot.”

“You know what Mikey? I missed you a lot too.”

***

Gerard took Mikey home. It was weird considering Mikey had to piggyback, but it was just nice to be spending time with his best friend again.

Martha was very excited Gerard “flew in” for a surprise visit. That meant Gerard was being forced to stick around for a few days. Mikey was secretly happy about that.

Gerard called their parents through the emergency line, and they picked up immediately.

“Martha? Is something wrong?”

“Hey Mom. It’s Gerard.” he rubbed his neck awkwardly and almost... guilty.

“Gerard?” you could hear the confusion in her voice. “Why are you calling through the home phone? Are you at home?”

“Uh, yeah. Mikey... he’s like me.”

The phone line went quiet before a thud followed suit, like she dropped the phone. “DONALD!”

Mikey and Gerard shared a worried glance before there was rustling at the other end and their father’s loud voice appeared. “Michael James Way, what the hell happened?”

“Don’t get upset with him, he didn’t know what was going on. Things were different for him.” Gerard argued in response. “Mikey, tell them what happened.”

“I uh, ended up in Rome today. And then I was in D.C.”

“So teleportation then? I guess that makes sense. It’s close to your brother’s. Which I assume you know about.”

“Uh yeah.” Gerard flashed Mikey a hopeful smile. “I didn’t realize what was going on. I’m sorry.”

Dad sighed. “Don’t be sorry. Nobody thought two of our children would get it. We didn’t even think one child would. It’s not your fault. It’s ours. Look buddy, we’ll find you some help, alright? Help you get a hold on your powers.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“No problem. We’ll come home early tonight, okay? Eat dinner together as a family. I’ll ring Martha and let her know. Then we can talk more in depth about this. I’m proud of you boys. I gotta go now. Love you both. Your mother loves you too.”

“Love you too Dad,” they both chimed in unison. The phone line clicked off.

“I told you it wouldn’t be that bad.” Gerard said with a smile. Mikey shrugged.

“I know.”

***

When Mikey was 18 years old, he went to go live with Gerard. Mikey was going to the same college Gerard did, and after Gerard had finished his schooling he got a job and started making his own living. He refused all help from his parents, despite their pleads to let them help. Gerard didn’t want to be piggybacking off his parents all his life. Mikey had a side job he worked when he didn’t have class to help his brother with the rent.

Mikey had gotten extremely good over those years of his training. He was okay with his power, and did exactly what Gerard had told him to do. It required patience, but Mikey was good, and he was able to accomplish what he needed to.

Things were pretty normal for the Way boys. Mikey attended class and Gerard worked long hours to support them. They went home for the holidays and only accepted money from their parents during that time. Gerard would then lock that money away so neither had any urges to spend all of it. Life was looking okay.

When Mikey graduated college, things were looking even better. Now both could work to support the household and they never went hungry. Sometimes it seemed things might go south, but Gerard stayed optimistic.

That was, until he lost his job.

Mikey couldn’t make enough for two people. Gerard was on the hunt, but job hunting was getting harder and harder. They ended up having to take money out of their savings just to pay rent. Gerard was getting frustrated. He was getting angry.

And sometimes, Mikey could hear him sobbing late at night.

He didn’t want his brother to be upset. Gerard had been willing to take him in when he didn’t need too. Mikey had to make things right.

He was a few years off from thirty and they had been living on the brink of poverty for a couple of years now. Mikey knew Gerard was trying his hardest, but it seemed things simply weren’t working out for either of them.

Mikey was taking a walk down a dirt path on the outskirts of the city, hands tucked into his pockets and his head down. He was trying to think of ways he could make more money. Mikey knew he could always resort to stealing, and he had to admit that he had thought about that several times. It wouldn’t be hard to get in and out.

But that was wrong.

“Hey.”

Mikey looked up at the person that just passed him on the trail. He was a lean guy with thick, dark brown hair and an almost olive tinge to his skin. He looked to be fairly young. Mikey figured this was your stereotypical douchebag looking for trouble.

He nodded his head towards the man before continuing down the path. He didn’t want to be around people. That’s why he came out here.

“Hey dude?” the guy said again, and Mikey whipped around, ready to tell this guy to leave him the hell alone.

That was when Mikey realized something was weird about this guy, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it.

“Sorry to be annoying, but I couldn’t help but realize you seem kind of down.”

Mikey scoffed. “Don’t worry about it kid. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I know it sucks being sad. But I hope things get better.”

“I don’t think these things are going to get better anytime soon, but thanks for trying.”

“My name’s Tyler.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow. “Cool dude. Is that it?”

“Oh come on. I know you aren’t human. You don’t need to play dumb with me.”

“Oh.” So that’s what was weird. This Tyler guy was like him. “So you have powers then?”

“You could say that.”

Mikey nodded his head. “Mikey.”

“Mikey. Like the ninja turtle.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Tyler smiled. “I have a place Mikey. It’s fairly new. But you could call it a safe haven. There’s some other people there. They’re nice people. People like us that are struggling and need an escape.”

“Really?” That was news to him. Maybe, if Tyler was being true to his words, this could be a good start for Gerard and him. No more problems.

“Yeah. We all know life sucks. But it can get better. What do you say?”

Mikey was still wary. “I have a brother. Can he come too?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll have to consult with him. But uh, I think that maybe... it could work.”

Tyler grinned. “Awesome.”

Mikey thought it was pretty awesome too.

 

 


	5. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, after two years I'm finally updating this. Hopefully I'll get a few more out before I crash.

Up until Alex was six years old, he had never seen a human.

Born in the United Kingdom, Alex began his childhood in a rather large clan that lived in the hills of Cambridgeshire. There were about thirty of them; about half were families and the rest were young and ready to take on the world. They avoided going into the city, only heading inwards when it was absolutely necessary.

Alex’s everything was in these foothills.

It was here where he found his best friend, where he went to school, where his family prepared him for the possibility of getting a talent. Every family prepared their children, and the clan even had a few group meetings discussing signs and coping methods. Alex was far too young to understand half of what was going on, but he enjoyed those nights nonetheless. It presented him with a time to play with his friends and eat more than one thing for dessert. For a six year old, Alex loved his life. He had nothing to worry about, because everything was perfect.

Until the day he had to move.

His parents had decided that their son needed a better environment to grow up in, one where he could attend a proper school and they could assimilate into human culture. And so, that summer the Gaskarth family packed up everything they owned and moved to Baltimore, Maryland, all the way to the United States. 

Alex cried. He didn’t understand why he had to move so far away from his friends, and his school, and his  _ everything. _ His parents tried to explain to him that this was something they needed to do, that this would give them a better life because “Daddy got a new job,” but to a six year old, that meant nothing.

“We’re moving into a house sweetheart, where you’ll get your own room and a big backyard and we’ll be close to the beach!” Exclaimed his mother. Alex still huffed.

The day they arrived in Baltimore was dreary and cold. The sky was covered in dark, brooding clouds, and it had began to drizzle when they pulled up to the house. The movers were already there, bringing stuff instead, and Alex’s father went inside to help.

His mother turned around in the seat with a large grin on her face. “Alex, would you like to go to the beach?”

Alex had never seen the ocean before, but it was raining and sorta cold. “Mommy, it’s raining outside.”

“Oh, it’s just drizzling, that’s nothing we can’t handle! Besides, you have a jacket, and playing in the rain is fun!”

He did like playing in the rain. After a few seconds of thinking, Alex nodded his head. “Okay.”

His mother cheered and opened the car door for him to jump out. Together, they made the short walk down to the water, which would be the first of many for Alex.

To a six year old, most things in the world are incredible and fantastic, but to Alex, the ocean was the most incredible and fantastic of all of them. He stood a good fifteen feet from the shore, watching grey waves crash. Their roar pounded in his ear drums as rain fell around him.

He took a step forward and let his toes sink into wet sand.

“Alex sweetie, don’t get too close.” Called out his mother as she walked towards him. Alex squinted.

“Why not?”

“The ocean is a dangerous place, my love. The waves are powerful and can sweep you away if you aren’t careful.”

“Oh.” he blinked. “Can I touch the water?”

“If you hold my hand. It’s going to be cold.” his mother grabbed his hand, and together they walked into an approaching wave, the water lapping at their toes. His mother had been right; the water was freezing. It sent a chill down his spine and left him wanting more.

Under his mother’s hawk eyes, Alex pried himself out of her tight grip and bent down to let his hands disappear under the frigid waves. He closed his eyes, and let peace overcome him.

It was at only six years old that Alex found the love of his life.

***

Life moved on, and as he grew older, Alex would spend every free minute alone at the beach two subdivisions down. He would walk, listen to music, and let his feet sink into sand as water rushed over them. Sometimes he’d find himself venturing out further into the waves, his clothes discarded on the sand as the water rose above his knees, above his waist, above his shoulders. 

It wasn’t just the ocean that Alex loved, but water itself. His parents joked that he must have been some sort of merman, because every opportunity he got to go swimming or play in the sprinklers was one he took. He’d spend half an hour in the bathtub, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, as he let the water protect him. And that’s how he felt: protected. 

Like nothing would ever hurt him again.

When Alex started high school, he immediately tried out for the swim team. He was fast, and had more endurance than any of his other teammates; they were amazed by how long Alex could hold his breath. His parents warned him about showing off.

“You aren’t like the rest of them love,” his mother told him. “We don’t need humans getting suspicious about us. Try and act like the rest of them, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex had replied, but he didn’t listen to his mother at all. At practices, he showed off as much as he could, and it paid off in the end, because he managed to get some of the fastest times at competitions and impressed the judges.

He tried to be involved in school as well, which had been strongly recommended by his parents as a part of “assimilating into human culture.” His grades were good, he had awesome friends, and the ocean was only a short walk away. Life was fantastic. 

And, he had access to the school’s swimming pool, which gave him the opportunity to be surrounded by water long after the team left for the night. He’d sink to the bottom of the pool, close his eyes, and relax. He was able to hold his breath up to ten minutes at a time before needing air, which gave him plenty of time to soak in his surroundings.

Until the day he met Jack Barakat.

Alex had just started his sophomore year of high school, and swim was in full swing. After a two and a half hour practice, the team had left, and Alex sank to the bottom of the pool. He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and let himself relax.

Jack, who had stayed late to serve a detention, was on his way out of the building to walk home. He usually cut through the back entrance of the pool, which was closer to his neighborhood, and spotted Alex in the pool. To him, it looked like the kid was drowning, and he panicked.

Immediately he emptied his pockets, shrugged his bookbag off, and jumped in.

Alex’s breath left his lungs as tight arms wrapped around his midsection and pulled him up to the surface. He coughed and sputtered as he pushed the boy away from him and glared.

“What the hell, dude?”

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry. I thought you were drowning, I freaked out, and--”

Alex interrupted him angrily. “No, I’m fine. I was just getting some fucking alone time, until you came.”

The boy scoffed as he made his way to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out of the water. “Jesus, I’m sorry for trying to help. I thought you were drowning.”

“Well I’m not.” Alex huffed, his hands splashing down in the water roughly as he continued to tread. It then occurred to him that there was something off about the boy, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It seemed to come to the boy though, because his eyebrows disappeared into the hair matted on his forehead. “Holy shit. You’re a talent.”

Alex gasped. “You are too!”

“Yeah! Dude, I haven’t seen another talent in so long-- must be the area, I guess not a lot really want to be around a bunch of humans.” He shook his head. “My name is Jack.”

“Alex,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, I lived in a clan up until I was six, and then we moved here. My parents thought assimilating into human culture would be better for us.”

“My parents are obsessed with humans,” Jack exclaimed. “They’re so fascinated with how they can be so weak and so cocky at the same time.”

That got Alex to laugh. “I guess that’s something worth investigating, huh?”

“We actually moved here from Lebanon.” his face suddenly became somber, like he was nervous bringing up such a subject. “Things weren’t very good there, so here we are. Anyways, why were you sitting at the bottom of the pool?”

“It’s where I come for alone time,” Alex explained. “The water calms me.”

“You’re on the swim team.”

“Yep.” he nodded. “I’m sort of... obsessed with it.”

“Do you think that’s a sign?”

“A sign for what?” Jack raised an eyebrow, and it clicked. “Oh! Nah, I don’t think so. We used to have these meetings back in the clan about talents, and they were like, super rare.”

“Have you met anybody with one?”

“Yeah, there was an older man in the clan who could freeze things. It was pretty damn cool. You?”

“My dad has one actually. He’s so certain I’m the next of the Barakat’s to get one, so I’m waiting.” he shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that responsibility.”

“There’s signs, right? Have you noticed any?”

“Nope. I don’t think I’ll get one either. I’ve got two other siblings granted with that ‘honor.’” Jack scoffed and pushed himself off the ground. “Anyways, I guess I better get home.”

“Here, let me drive you. Since I’m the reason you jumped in the water.” Alex smiled. “Thanks though, for doing that. Sorry I was a dick.”

“That’s a-okay, I’ve dealt with a lot of dicks.” Jack grinned back as he shrugged off his soaked t-shirt and reached for his backpack and phone. “I live nearby.”

“Perfect.”

***

Jack and Alex became best friends after that, as did their families. The fact that there were more talents nearby was comforting to the both of them, and it provided plenty of time for the boys to be together. They were inseparable; at school they ate lunch together and sat by each other in every class they could. Jack came to Alex’s swim meets, they studied together, and at one point there was even a rumor floating around the school that the two were dating. Jack had laughed it off, exclaiming that “it couldn’t be a true friendship without at least one gay rumor,” but it had left Alex thinking. The both of them were now seniors, and Jack had certainly grown into an attractive dude. He was tall, his skin was smooth and the color of caramel and his hair was dark and pompous and absolutely perfect. 

Those were normal things to think about your best friend, right?

Right?

He never brought it up to Jack, just because he managed to convince himself that the things he was thinking were normal. Their senior year started off with a bang, Alex was made swim captain, and Jack was there to cheer his best friend on. To them, college was still long off and not important quite yet. Those were December problems; for now, they would live out the rest of their last September in high school.

One night before the first competition of the season, Jack was over at Alex’s house. The two sat on Alex’s bed, scrolling on computers as music crooned softly behind them.

“Are you nervous?” asked Jack.

“For tomorrow? Nah. Just a little sad this is the last season of swim for me.”

“You aren’t going to try to go professional in college?”

Alex shook his head. “My parents don’t think that’s a good idea. They’re so worried about me showing off and shit, you know, because we aren’t human. They think me being fast and being able to hold my breath is going to expose Talents.” he scoffed. “Whatever. I’ll sneak into the pools at college anyways.”

“You think you’ll stay close?” For a split second, it seemed like Jack was worried about Alex leaving. Alex knew he’d never be able to leave the ocean, not when it called out to him every waking second of his life.

“Definitely. I can’t leave the ocean behind.”

“I mean, there’s another coast, one we’ve never even seen.” Jack rolled over onto his stomach and sighed loudly. “I’d love to travel. Ever since we moved, I haven’t left Baltimore.”

“Besides visiting Florida a few times, either have I, really.” Alex clicked his tongue and mimicked Jack’s sigh. “We should go on a trip, after we graduate. Visit the country. Go on a roadtrip.”

Jack’s eyes grew wide. “That sounds fucking awesome. I’d be down.”

“Then we go for it. My parents aren’t going to care--”

“Neither will mine, they’re always going on about me being independent.”

“Oh dude, I’m psyched just thinking about it. We can go to all the places tourists rave about, you know, D.C., New York City--”

“Chicago, Austin, Las Vegas--”

“Los Angeles, San Francisco. Just the two of us.” They locked eyes, and suddenly, his room was nothing but a void, and his breath was sucked away by the brunette in front of him. Alex’s ears rang as he scooted closer to his best friend.

Right. His  _ best friend. _

“Hey Jack?”

“Hey yeah?” Jack seemed to know what was about to happen, and welcomed Alex’s touch with open arms. Alex leaned in closer, closer, until their lips touched, and fireworks exploded behind their closed eyes. Neither could understand how they surivived without each other’s touch for so long; they became dependent, desperate, as the kiss deepened and their fingers explored.

Maybe it was wrong, to be making out with your best friend, but it felt so  _ wrong _ that it was right and the only thing that mattered. Because Alex realized he  _ loved _ Jack more than just a friend.

Jack was the one to pull away. He collected himself with a few short breaths and stared at the hair on Alex’s forehead matted down with sweat. “Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I liked that. A lot.”

“Me too man, me too.”

***

That weekend, Alex fell ill.

His body ached, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he couldn’t even find the strength to move from his bed. The swim team had to drop him, because he missed too many practices and competitions. They were upset, the coach was upset, but Alex understood. He felt furious.

For some reason, he found himself blaming Jack for his sickness. He had only gotten sick after kissing him, if he hadn’t done that, if he hadn’t fucking  _ kissed him,  _ he wouldn’t have gotten sick and kicked off the team. This was all Jack’s fault.

The second week of his sickness, Alex began having sharp pains in his chest. He’d scream and his parents would come rushing in.

“We’ll call a doctor,” his father said, already pulling out his phone. They had to contact a doctor that was a talent; normal people couldn’t see Alex, because he wasn’t human, and that would ruin everything. Alex felt like he was dying. He couldn’t eat, because everytime he did he’d vomit it all up. Water was all he could get down, and he was thankful his true love was there for him in time of need.

Jack finally came to visit. He brought a thick stack of papers home, homework probably, and set them on Alex’s bedside table.

Alex glared.

He cleared his throat. “Hey bud.”

“Bud?  _ Bud?”  _ Alex’s voice was gone, but he used all of his strength to speak. “So we make out and you’re going to call me bud?”

“Well no, I just, we haven’t talked about things since then, and--”

“This is your fucking fault, you know. If I hadn’t kissed you, I would have never gotten sick, I would have never gotten dropped from the swim team.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re blaming  _ me _ for getting you sick? I’m fine Alex! You’re the one who fucking kissed me, are you saying you regret it?”

“Yes,” Alex spat. “I fucking regret it. I’m not gay. I made a terrible fucking mistake kissing you.”

That must have been unexpected, because Jack stepped back like he had taken a blow to the stomach. His eyes softened, and his lips quivered like he was about to break out into tears. “Oh. I see.”

“Just get out of here,” Alex croaked as he turned the other way. Thirty seconds later, the door to his bedroom shut, leaving him in complete silence. Well, not complete silence, because he broke down into heavy sobs.

His perfect life had been destroyed in two weeks time.

***

After a month, Alex was finally healthy enough to get out of bed and return to school. His social life became non-exist, for he was drowning in the school work he had missed, and a plethora of senior papers.

Alex fell into a state of depression. Without Jack, without swim, his life felt meaningless. He no longer had any strength to do his work, to get good grades, to apply for scholarships or look further into college. At school, people would whisper about him, about how he had gotten so sick he had to be hospitalized (which wasn’t true) and how he was contagious (also not true.) People avoided him. His teammates no longer spoke with him, only avoided him, as did Jack. Everytime he’d see Jack in the hallway, or even try to approach him, Jack would slam his locker shut and hurry down the hallway, disappearing into the crowd.

At one point, he fell so low into the pit that he found himself making plans to end his life. He began scribbling in a notebook, deciding what things to give away, writing drafts of notes to give to his parents, to Jack.

Alex wished he could apologize face to face. He knew getting sick hadn’t been Jack’s fault, and he knew how deeply in love he was with his ex-best friend.

A letter would have to do. Surely Jack couldn’t hate a dead person.

“Alex, love?” his mother appeared in the doorway after a loud knock, with a worried look on her face. “Sweetheart, can we talk?”

Alex slammed his notebook closed and tossed it onto his bedside table. “Sure.”

He watched warily as his mother made her way to his bed and sat down next to him. “You know your father and I love you very much, right?”

“Of course.”

“We’ve been getting emails from the school about your slipping grades. Alex, you’re failing half your classes. You’ve never been like this before.”

“I don’t care anymore,” he admitted, picking at his comforter. His mother sighed.

“Your father and I have our... speculations, if you might.”

That got his attention. Alex looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean?”

“We’ve talked with Jack’s father about talents--”

“No.” Alex jumped off his bed. “No.”

“Sweetheart--”

“That can’t be happening to me!” he gripped the sides of his head and willed himself to calm down. Anxiety whirled in his stomach like a tsunami. He couldn’t get a talent, not him, not now, that was only going to make things worse--

“Alex, please listen. This is important.”

He let his back thump against the wall and gestured for his mother to continue.

“Mood swings, lack of motivation, extreme illness, you know these are all signs--”

“Of normal teenage behavior--”

“Alex, you aren’t normal.” she shook her head sadly. “I thought assimilating into human culture would be a good thing, but you’ve forgotten who you are. You spend all your time with humans, you don’t even speak with Jack anymore, and I really hope there isn’t any other excuse for your behavior. I know things seem tough and stressful, believe me, I’ve been there. Being a teenager is rough. But please believe me when I say you have people that love you. You still have time to make things right.”

“I was making plans to kill myself,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Oooh, I’m such an  _ idiot--” _

“Alexander William Gaskarth, you are  _ not _ an idiot, not at all. I know how hard it is to talk to your parents about these kinds of things. Tell you what, how about I schedule an appointment with the doctor so we can get you put on some antidepressants?”

Great. Alex sighed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Can you promise me you’ll be safe tonight?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

“Look me in the eyes.” He looked up, and his mother pulled him into a hug. “I love you with all my might, you understand?”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“You’re going to feel whole again baby, I promise.”

He hoped his mother was right.

***

The next day after school, Alex waited until swim practice had finished and changed into his swim suit. He looked around worriedly, afraid that someone might be watching him, and jumped in. Immediate release found him as the water engulfed him, and down, down, down he sank, until the rough cement scraped across his legs. He leaned his head back and crossed his legs.

Water was where he felt safe. Water was what he needed if he were to keep on living life.

Alex had a doctor appointment with the “resident talent doctor” at the end of the week for an examination, so he could get some medicine. Somehow, that made him feel worse, like he was so broken he needed drugs to make him feel better.

But he knew his mother was right. He needed a crutch to help him walk until he was fully healed.

His chest burned after roughly eight minutes, and Alex knew he needed to come up soon, but he couldn’t find it in himself to float upwards. How easy would it be, to take a breath and let water fill his lungs?

Alex opened his mouth. Water was his best friend, the love of his life, and the way to go. She’d take care of him, she’d make him feel safe crossing over to the other side--

Nothing happened. No white light, no extreme pain; Alex opened his eyes and realized he was breathing.

_ Underwater. _

His eyes widened. Holy shit. Holy  _ fucking _ shit. He could breathe under water. How long had he been able to do that?

Was this his talent? Had his parents been right?

Alex climbed out of the pool quickly and pulled his shirt over his head. He jammed his feet into sandals and raced to his car, his keys hanging around one finger. Water dripped everywhere, but he didn’t care.

At home, he burst into the living room screaming for his mother, only to find his parents sitting down with Dr. Sanderson. His brow furrowed. The doctor wasn’t supposed to come over until later, why was he here?

“Ah Alex, we were just about to call you!” His father smiled ear to ear. “Dr. Sanderson was able to work you into his schedule a bit earlier, why don’t you go get changed and we’ll have a talk?”

“Can we breathe under water?” Alex blurted out. His mother raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I know of... Alex, can  _ you _ breathe under water?”

Still out of breath, Alex nodded his head rapidly. Dr. Sanderson stood up.

“Well Mr. and Mrs. Gaskarth, it seems your suspicions were correct. Your son definitely has a talent.”

Alex fainted.

***

Although he got put on antidepressants, Dr. Sanderson also scrawled down some instructions on how Alex could get better control over his talent and how he could figure out more about it.

“It’s like learning how to drive a car,” he explained. “You have to take things slowly and cautiously, but sure enough, you’ll become a pro.”

Alex had nodded weakly, his eyes still wide in fright. After he had passed out, his parents had put him on the sofa. He wasn’t going to lie-- he was fucking terrified.

After the doctor left, Alex’s father sat down next to him. “I already called Jack’s father. He’s willing to help you out.”

“Oh great,” Alex muttered. How awkward was that going to be?

“Maybe we should find him someone else dear,” interrupted his mother as she set a hand down on her husband’s shoulder. “Things with the Barakat's are... complicated for Alex at the moment.”

“Well Bassam’s extremely skilled and knows exactly what he’s doing--”

“And I’m saying for our son’s sake, that we start him off with someone else.”

Alex’s father sighed, but nodded his head. “Okay, I’ll look into it tomorrow. Alex, are you going to be okay for the night?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” he replied sarcastically. Fortunately his parents didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m gonna go to bed.”

Except he didn’t, because later that night Alex snuck out through his bedroom window and walked down to the ocean’s edge. He started into the vast darkness and listened to the waves crash.

He sighed. The water was his safe place, and now he felt betrayed. All Alex had wanted was to be normal; he couldn’t be normal if he could breath underwater.

Alex took a few steps forward until the water swished around his ankles. The water was frigid, as was the November weather, but Alex wasn’t bothered by it. He took another step forward, and another, letting his jeans get completely soaked.

The ocean roared. Waves rose higher with each step Alex took and crashed into the shore. He froze, the water up to his waist, and let his hands rest gently on the dark surface.

He heard a splash, some groans and moans, as the water churned around him. And suddenly, he didn’t feel safe anymore.

Alex cracked an eyelid open to find the water had moved in such a way that he was standing on dry ground. It formed a circle around him, wavering a bit, bending to his will. His brow furrowed. Shit, was  _ he _ doing that?

He moved his hands up in one quick motion, and watched as the waves grew higher and higher until they seemed to touch the sky. When his hands dropped, so did the water, and Alex was swallowed whole. He let the water engulf him and sank into the sand, his eyes open, as he let his chest get used to taking in water. In, and out, in and out, like it was oxygen. Alex felt safe. This felt a thousand times better than oxygen, hands down.

Maybe, just maybe, he could learn to deal with this.

***

Alex came to his parents the next morning and said, “I want Mr. Barakat to mentor me.”

His mother looked shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I can’t run away from my problems forever, so.” a shrug. “Let’s get them over with.”

Mr. Gaskarth, on the other hand, was giddy. He pulled his phone out. “I’ll call him right now.” He disappeared into the other room, and Mrs. Gaskarth gave her son a small smile.

“Alex, are you absolutely sure?”

He grinned back. “Yeah.”

***

Training with Jack’s father was the best decision Alex had ever made.

Things came easily to Mr. Barakat, but he was patient and kind when they didn’t for Alex.

“You have to act like it’s a part of you,” he explained, pulling his hands apart. He was able to make light disappear with a snap of his fingers, and completely plunge a room into darkness. “Don’t fight it, let it come naturally, like breathing or blinking. If you think about it, it’ll bother you, and it will no longer cooperate.”

“A part of me,” Alex nodded, taking a deep breath. He locked eyes with the glass of water sitting on the desk in front of him, and leaned forward on his elbows. He tried to focus on how warm he felt, how safe and protected he was when he was surrounded by it. It was a part of him, he needed it to live.

And miraculously, the water rose from the cup, a tiny stream that broke off into small lumps and bounced around each other. Alex let the water splash back into the cup and turned towards Mr. Barakat, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Well done, Alex.”

One practice, Alex ran into Jack as he was leaving the Barakat’s house. Usually Jack stayed hidden, refusing to come out until Alex left. Jack had made it very clear that he hated Alex.

Jack glared at him as he walked by. Alex tried not to make eye contact.

“So you’re a full fledged talent now, huh?”

Alex froze. Had Jack actually  _ spoke _ to him?

Slowly, he turned around. “Uhm, yeah, I guess.”

“So all those times you sat at the bottom of the swimming pool-- the water was calling you.”

A shrug. “Yeah. Sure.”

Jack scoffed. “So I guess you lost your shit on me for nothing, huh? Seems like I wasn’t the one that got you sick. It was your own goddamn body preparing you for this bullshit.”

“Jack, I’m sorry.” Alex managed to get the words out of his mouth, the words he wanted to say for months.

“You don’t fucking deserve this,” he growled, raising his voice, “You don’t deserve to have training from my father and parade around the school with a smug grin on your face because you think you’re fucking better than the rest of us--”

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone!”

“Whatever Alex. You’re a dick, and sorry isn’t going to cut it.” He turned to head inside, and Alex, acting on impulse, grabbed his shoulder.

“Jack, I was wrong. I was rude and a dick and I deserve all of this. I didn’t mean anything. I loved kissing you. It was the most alive I had ever felt, and I was frustrated and upset because of swim--”

Jack shrugged him off. “Fuck you Alex. Have fun swimming with the fucking fishes.” The door slammed shut, leaving Alex alone.

Jack was right. He was completely right, and Alex had fucked everything up.

***

The rest of senior year flew by quick, and Alex got a better grip on his powers with every passing day. Instead of the pool, he went to the ocean, off secluded somewhere where he could sit and think. The water obeyed his every movement and made him fall in love all over again.

There was a week of senior year left when Alex went to his parents with a proposition. He sat them down at the kitchen table and took a deep breath.

“Mom, Dad, I’m ready to go back to clan life.”

Silence. His parents shared a nervous look, and then his mother spoke. “What about college?”

“It’s only community college Mom, and I, I can’t do it. I can’t lose myself in human culture all over again and fall into a pit. I finally don’t have to take those stupid pills anymore, I’m happy with who I am, no, I’m  _ proud _ of who I am, who we are. And I miss running around as a six year old kid with all those people like me. I miss learning about our people, because in school all the people we ever talk about are humans and there are some days when I forget I’m not... human. You were right, Mom, I’m not normal. I’m a talent.” he smiled. “I want to have a big family like that again. I want to feel like I belong. I want to put in my fair amount of work making life better for people like me. Like us.”

“Son, I think that’s a great idea. Sometimes I miss clan life too.” His father sighed, and turned towards his wife. “Love?”

She sighed too. “Alex, I want what’s best for you. And if you want to go where you know you belong, then do it. As long as you visit.”

“Of course I’ll visit,” he promised. “I love you guys. I could never  _ not _ visit.”

“Good,” said Mrs. Gaskarth with tears in her eyes. She reached forward and pressed a kiss to Alex’s forehead. “I love you baby.”

“I love you too.”

***

Alex traveled for an entire year, looking for clans. 

His father had given him some direction, some information about nearby clans, but Alex wanted to explore, wanted to venture as far from home as he could get. He felt somewhat guilty that he was traveling without Jack. He remembered the conversation they had back at the start of senior year.

The night they had kissed.

He shook the thought out of his head. Jack was old news, and Alex needed to focus on the future.

He visited a clan in Iowa, and another in South Dakota, but not having the ocean closeby made him anxious. And so he kept heading west, sleeping out of his car most nights. Some nights though, he’d rent a motel just so he could sit at the bottom of the swimming pool and replenish some of his energy. He knew he’d find the right place eventually; Alex just needed to keep looking.

There was another clan in Colorado he debated on staying with; everyone was very kind to him and there was a river nearby, but there was a part of him that didn’t feel like it was right.

That was how Alex found himself in northern California.

He parked his car in a nearby lot and climbed out, the sun beading down on his neck. He slipped sunglasses on, fixed his swim trunks, and headed down to the tourist filled beach.

God, it had been so long since he had seen the ocean. It called out to him, beckoned him to come closer, and before he knew it, he had taken off running, laughing hysterically as the waves swallowed him whole. He ignored the laughter and conversations of tourists and sank to the bottom, moving deeper and deeper until he could no longer see the feet of people above him.

This was it. This was the place. 

***

He drove into the city for the night, his hair still wet from being in the ocean all day, and looked for a motel. Alex moved into the turning lane, aiming to spend the night at a Motel 8, when someone slammed into the back of him. His entire car lurched forward.

“FUCK!” He screamed as his forehead hit the steering wheel. He could feel blood on his face and cursed again. Whoever hit his car was about to get the wrath of Alex Gaskarth.

“Whoever” ended up being a lanky looking teen with tanned skin and dark hair. He looked terrified.

“Shit dude, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened--” he paused, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, you’re a talent!”

Alex had realized the guy was also a talent as he fumed. Suddenly, he wasn’t too upset anymore. “Shit dude, do you live out here?”

“No, I’ve got a small clan somewhere more secluded.” He seemed to notice the way Alex’s eyes lit up. “Would you wanna come back with me?”

“How many of you have talents?” Alex asked. The man smiled.

“All of us. It’s... It’s more of a safe haven than anything, and there aren’t many of us, but we’re growing every day. We could always use more help. I was actually coming to get some more supplies.”

“No shit.” Alex laughed and pressed his fingers into his eyes. This was perfect. This was the place, this was everything he needed right now. He thrusted his hand out. “I’m Alex.”

“Tyler.”

***

Another year passed, and Alex grew to love his new family.

There was Patrick and Pete, the “parents” of the group, who constantly made sure everyone was okay and had what they needed. Tyler, the leader, was only a year younger than Alex, but far more mature for his age and kept everything in order. He had problems of his own, but he dealt with them nicely.

Spencer and Brendon kept to themselves mostly; Brendon was Alex’s age, but seemed to be very timid and defensive. He had come only a few weeks after Alex and never left Spencer’s side.

Lastly, there was Dallon, the healer of the group, who never really spoke to anyone. He was the latest to be found, and spent most of his time locked in his room.

Alex often helped Tyler run errands; he had been the one to discover a large field about half a mile away from the building, where a quaint stream ran. When he couldn’t get out to the ocean, the stream was where he went to revive himself.

He called his parents often to let them know he was okay and doing well. “I haven’t been kidnapped by crazy people yet,” he joked, and his mother would snort.

One day, Tyler brought home a new face. He was panicking.

“Someone get Dallon, this guy’s hurt pretty badly!”

Alex dashed to find the healer immediately, who was in his room as always. “Dallon, we could use your help.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, pushing off from his bed. He followed somberly as Alex led him to the dining room where Tyler had brought their newest recruit.

The man had blood soaking his shirt and his breathing was shallow. Dallon pushed his shirt up and laid his hands on the man’s mutilated stomach.

With wide eyes, Alex stepped back. 

It was Jack.

“Alex, you okay?” asked Tyler, his eyes wide with worry. 

“I know him,” Alex whispered. How? How was this possible? Alex was all the way on the other side of the country, this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Fifteen minutes passed. Dallon remained hunched over Jack while Alex sat himself down at one of the tables and downed sixteen glasses of water. He pushed fingers into his eyes and told himself to breathe.

“He’s going to be okay,” Dallon finally said, and Alex sighed with relief. “Probably just needs some rest. That was a pretty hefty wound.”

“There’s a room ready down by Brendon’s,” Tyler offered, pushing himself off one of the benches. Alex stood up as well.

“I can carry him.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Alex reached out and pulled Jack into his arms. He cradled him against his chest as he followed Tyler down the hallway and tried to forget about the fact that he truly believed he was never going to see Jack Barakat ever again, nonetheless  _ touch _ him.

“Here,” Tyler snapped him back into reality as he pushed the door open and relieved a newly clean bedroom with four grey walls and a queen sized bed. Alex set Jack down gently and ran a hand through his hair. Jack look absolutely exhausted.

“You said you knew him?” Tyler said quietly. Alex nodded.

“He was my best friend in high school. We were the only talents at the school.” he scoffed, a smile rising to his face as he recalled memories. “I loved him to death, and one night we kissed. It was like, right there, I had found my soulmate. He meant everything to me, and I ruined everything.”

Tyler’s hand found its way to Alex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. But hey, maybe this is your chance to make things right?”

“I hope so,” Alex replied.

***

He waited, in a chair across from Jack’s bed, for the brunette to wake up. And when he finally did, Alex was to his side.

“Jack? You okay?”

“Huh? Alex? What are you doing here?” he looked around. “Where am I?”

“Clan. Tyler found you bleeding to death and brought you here. Jack, what are you doing in California?”

Jack sighed and rubbed at his face. “I came here uhm, to kill myself.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I wanted to travel, and so I did. I wrote notes, I put everything in order, and I plunged the knife into my stomach. Guess that didn’t work out, huh?” He scoffed bitterly. “I was miserable.”

“I’m so sorry, Jack.” Alex could feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been such a dick--”

“It wasn’t just you.” He sighed. “I got my own.”

“Talent?”

“Yeah. Just like my dad said. And he put all this fucking pressure on me and I just... snapped. The mood swings definitely weren’t helping either.”

“I felt like offing myself too,” Alex admitted. “My parents put me on meds.”

Jack shrugged. “My dad said it’d be over soon, it was only a part of the “process,” but it felt like it was never going to end. I’m so fucking depressed dude.”

“If it means anything, I’m so glad you’re here,” Alex started. He sniffed a little. “Jack, I was a fucking idiot. You were my best friend and I ruined everything and no amount of apologies is going to make up for that. I love you, straight up, love you. I’m fucking  _ in _ love with you, and I was a fool to let you go. But now you’re here, you’re alive, and it all sorta, I don’t know.”

Jack was quiet. He closed his eyes, opened them, and blinked a few times. “Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” 

And then, his lips were on Alex’s, and just like the first time, it felt like he was on fucking cloud nine. He was in love with Jack Barakat and he had known that from the start.

Jack wrapped his fingers underneath Alex’s shirt and rested his forehead softly against his. “I have another shot at life,” he whispered, “but I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m here,” Alex promised. “I’m always going to be here.”

Jack kissed him again, and Alex knew everything was going to be okay.


End file.
